Photo prompt challenge
by Hev99
Summary: A series of one shots based on picture prompts set by Nostalgicmiss. Various themes and characters. Rated M for possible future content.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, not me. Sadly!**_

_**A/N: This one shot came from a photo prompt given to me by Nostalgicmiss. The photo can be found on the blog where she is also posting her stories. **_

_**picprompt (dot) blogspot (dot) com/?zx=fc173bfa148f411f**_

_**Hopefully there will be one posted a week and they will all be different, depending on the photos I get! **_

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"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I chanted to myself as I tore at my hair, the metallic band that was holding my hair out of my eyes falling forward and coming to rest on my forehead where I left it, too busy with my self flagellation to bother to reset it.

I curled my knees up into my chest, resting my chin on my knees and staring out at the football field angrily. I don't know what I was thinking, letting Alice talk me into going to that stupid party just so that she could stalk some guy in the year above us. She was utterly convinced that if he saw her in her own clothes instead of the vile school uniform he saw her in day in day out that he would be suddenly rendered unable to resist her and would fall into her arms like some sort of ridiculous fairy tale.

Of course, naturally it had worked like a charm and Jasper Whitlock was pretty much putty in her hands from the moment she walked into the party in her almost indecently tight dress and insanely high heels which I couldn't have even stood up straight in, let alone attempted the seductive swagger she managed to pull off.

And of course he was there, with his blonde hair, melting blue eyes and Jessica Stanley permanently attached to him like a limpet. His eyes had caught mine briefly, indifference flying from them and almost creasing me in two before he walked away with his arm slung casually over Jessica's shoulder and her hand caressing his ass cozily.

I could hear my brother in the kitchen with his friends, laughing boisterously and probably drinking insane amounts of alcohol, knowing that dad was out of town until the following evening.

I burrowed my face into my knees, wishing I could just disappear as I remembered how I had fled from the room after realizing how hopelessly out of place I was there.

The room had spun about me, the crowds of teenagers in varying states of inebriation twisting menacingly around me as I fought to remain standing, my feet so solidly fixed on the spot where I was standing that I was certain I would take root there. The jovial shouts from all around rang in my ears as my eyes darted around looking for somebody, anybody in the room that I could relate to. My best friend, the one who had dragged me along in the first place was twisted up against Jasper Whitlock's body, his hands cupping her ass as they made out in the corner by the keg which had busted open and destroyed Tyler's parent's carpet.

As the noise became more and more deafening and my eyes began to swim with tears I desperately tried to suppress, I couldn't bear it any more. Whispering a hurried "I'm sorry" into the room, which probably went unheard, I turned on my heel and ran out of there, leaving the happy sounds of people enjoying themselves behind me and pushing my legs forward until I hit the football park across the way from Tyler's house. There I flung myself down onto one of the benches which circled the pitch where children's teams played in a mini league at the weekends.

I could hear the light breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees which lined this side of the pitch, bringing with it a cooling relief to the blazing sunshine which was sinking down in the western sky, signaling that the party was probably moving from the pretense of a small BBQ it had begun as, into the full scale blowout that it had turned into well before it was even starting to get dark.

Soft footsteps approached me, crunching through the loose gravel getting louder and louder, closer and closer, then coming to a stop beside me. I kept my face buried in my knees, hoping to utilize the old "if I can't see them, they can't see me," trick. It, of course, failed epically.

"Bella?" a soft voice whispered the sound almost like a song on the breeze.

I shook my head in between my knees, saying nothing and hoping that whoever it was would just go away and leave me alone.

"You sure about that?" the voice continued, a small laugh contained within his words.

I nodded, once again maintaining my silence and keeping my face hidden, certain that the emotions there would betray me to whoever the voice belonged to.

"Ah, my mistake, apologies," a hand landed on the top of my head, making me jump and look up into a pair of familiar piercing green eyes which were eyeing me with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Are you alright?" Edward Cullen, quarter back, school hero and best friend to my brother questioned me softly, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight making his expression appear even more intense than he intended.

"Peachy," I mumbled, placing my head back into its burrow in my knees and bringing my arms around to hug them in place.

"Oh right," he responded, his feet shuffling noisily in the gravel. "It's just that I've never seen you move so fast or so skillfully before."

I snorted at his words, earning a long drawn out silence before he finally asked, "What's funny?"

"You are," I responded, looking up into his confused eyes once more. One perfect eyebrow quirked at me in question when I didn't elaborate.

"You," I started, "see me." The very idea was preposterous, so how he would know how quickly or otherwise I generally moved or with how much coordination was beyond me.

"See you?" he responded, softly. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter," I returned, moving my head as if to look back into my knees again, but finding the movement restricted by his finger under my chin. His intense eyes gazed at me, piercing their way through my defenses and making me squirm until his finger dropped from my face, falling uncomfortably down by his side once more.

"Sorry," he whispered, looking guilty at my obvious discomfort.

"What do you want, Edward?" I asked, almost rudely.

"I just wanted to make sure you were ok, I saw you run out of the party like you were upset, you looked..." he trailed off, shrugging as though the rest of the sentence was obvious.

"You... saw me?"

"Of course, Bella... what?" His tone was utterly confused and I had no intention of enlightening him and embarrassing myself. I just shook my head once again, seeing his frustration at my lack of response.

He sat down on the bench beside me, scooting back and leaning against the trunk of an old oak tree which sat conveniently behind the bench.

"You don't say much do you?" he chuckled, his eyes still holding mine as I twisted where I sat following him with wide surprised eyes.

"You don't have to stay out here with me, Edward, you can go back to the party," I said, effectively releasing him from any weird sense of duty he felt towards Emmett in 'taking care' of his sister for him.

"Am I annoying you? Do you want me to go?" he responded, leaning forward slightly from his relaxed pose against the tree.

"No, Edward, you're not annoying me." I sighed, averting my gaze back out to the football field, his scrutiny becoming uncomfortable. "But you don't have to stay either, you're missing the party," I reasoned, fingering the loosed threads on the knees of my jeans where the denim was wearing away.

"Something tells me I'm not missing much," he rolled his eyes as the gentle din which had been audible from the house was steadily increasing in volume. My eyes widened in surprise at the look of disgust he aimed at the house.

"It sounded like people were having fun," I whispered, uncertain as to why he was suddenly being nice to me.

"Yeah, fun," he laughed sarcastically. "Your big brother seemed to like the beer anyway," he laughed, almost bitterly.

"Big brother," I scoffed, the usual assumption bugging me just as much as ever.

"Again with the cryptic laughter," his eyebrow went up once more, his emerald eyes twinkling at me curiously.

"Big brother. Everyone says big brother."

"He's not your brother?" his question made me laugh out loud.

"Oh, he's my brother," I forced out through my laughter, earning myself an even more confused look. "We're twins, Edward."

The look of shocked confusion on his face was so comical I almost wished that I carried a camera just so that I could capture it. His mouth opened and closed several times, his eyes wide and gaping at me as though he had never seen me before, which I had always, assumed to be the case.

"But... You're in different grades, how? I mean..." he trailed off, apparently unable to verbalize what apparently Emmett never bothered to tell him.

"He was born at eleven fifty nine pm on August thirty first, I was born at twelve oh-two am on September first. He's three minutes and a whole school year older than me."

"Wow," he responded, simply. "That's... ah... weird."

"Yeah, weird," I agreed, shuffling back on the bench and leaning back against the tree beside him, my arm brushing against his, sending sparks of electricity shooting through me. Jumping back from him I felt him do the same, evidently he felt it too.

"So why'd you run?" he changed the subject after a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence. I simply shrugged in response, pulling my knees back up to my chest and hugging them there tightly, my chin once more resting on the tops of my knees. "Not a party person?"

"Is it that obvious?" I mumbled, briefly meeting his eyes with mine then staring down at my scruffy, converse clad feet.

"Kind of, the look of abject terror on your face when you walked in pretty much sold you out, sorry," he winked at me. Winked at me.

My mind was whirling at about a thousand miles a second, trying to figure out what he wanted, why he had followed me out here and why he was still sitting with me, looking like there was nowhere on earth he'd rather be.

"Why are you here, Edward?" I whispered softly, looking at him squarely in the eyes, waiting for the inevitable, when he would tell me he followed me out here for a bet or something.

"I saw you run and I was worried about you," he responded, simply, shrugging as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You... saw me and then you came after me?" I started my voice slightly wobbly. "I don't even want to go into how many things are wrong with that sentence."

He looked at me curiously, his trademark crooked grin which routinely left all the girls in Forks High swooning and reaching for the smelling salts taking over his face.

"Enlighten me," he said after a few moments of staring at me. "Tell me which bits of the sentence you have a problem with and I'll see if I can clear things up for you."

I turned my head so that my cheek was resting against my knee and my eyes were fixed on his. They stared at me now in all their glorious emerald intensity, waiting for a response.

"OK so let's start with the part where you saw me, shall we?" I mumbled, unable to drag my eyes away from his captivating gaze.

"I'm not blind, Bella," he laughed, his eyes flickering all around as though he was demonstrating the adequacies of his sight. "Why would that surprise you?"

He sounded genuinely intrigued, a small line appearing between his eyes as they focused back on me.

"Because I'm... me, and you are... well... you. The only reason you even know my name is because you hang out with my brother."

"You think so?" he smirked at me, one eyebrow raised once again as though he was teasing me.

"I know so," I replied confidently.

"You're name is Isabella but you hate being called that because it was the name your mom gave you and you'd rather not think about her. When she left you guys you cried for three whole days and then you refused to answer to Isabella any more. You want to be an editor when you're older, you love to write but being a writer would thrust you into the limelight and there's nothing you hate more than being the centre of attention. You have a crazy crush on Mike Newton who is too much of a douche to notice and even if he did he wouldn't be nearly good enough for you for Emmett to allow him within twelve feet of you, for fear of how crushed you'd be when you realized what an idiot you were crushing on. You hide from the world by walking around with your head down thinking that if you don't look at the world then the world won't look at you, but you're wrong. You don't realize how many people notice you because the one person you want to notice you doesn't."

The smirk had disappeared from his face, replaced by a look that held such deep intensity that it made me fidget uncomfortably where I sat. His long slender fingers twitched where they rested on his thigh before he reached out with his right hand and pushed a stray strand of my hair behind my ear with the most devastatingly tender look on his face.

"I see you, Bella," he whispered, so quietly that the gentle breeze almost stole the words away. The hand that moved my hair now landed softly on my face, the pad of his thumb running in small circles on the apple of my cheek. His face was so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face, the slight scent of cola overcoming my senses and telling me that he was maybe the only other person at the party who hadn't been drinking. I felt a strong surge of something that felt like electricity flow through me, charging from the spot on my face where his hand was still lightly touching it, right through my body.

"B-but you're Edward Cullen," I mumbled incoherently, the words tripping out of my mouth in no apparent order and causing his hand to drop from my face.

"And who is he exactly?" he asked, his voice almost hostile as he leaned back against the tree. I recoiled at the almost resentful tone of his voice, seeing a hurt look shoot across his face.

"Edward Cullen?" I asked earning myself a curt nod before his eyes wandered to the football pitch where no doubt he had scored numerous touchdowns over the years. "He's the quarterback on the football team, the guy who got himself a full football scholarship to Harvard, the guy who walks through the corridors at school and has every single girl swooning after him. He's the guy who all the girls want to be with and all the guys want to be."

"That's what he is. Not who he is," he shifted forwards so that his feet were on the ground then pushed up and started to wander away towards the pitch, turning back briefly and shooting me a look that invited me to go with him.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to follow him. I was having trouble reconciling the Edward Cullen I had just described to the one who seemed to know more about me than I had ever consciously shown. The guy who hung out with my brother and his friends was confident verging on cocky; he never ever spoke to me except for basic manners when he was around at my house. So why would that guy follow me out of a party because he saw that I was upset? Why would he care?

Yet here he was. Here he was, being kind to me and I just insulted him by talking about the guy I had thought he was when evidently that wasn't the case.

"I'm sorry, Edward, I didn't mean to..." I struggled for words as I clambered off the bench and approached him shyly. As I reached him he started to walk again, he seemed to be heading for the end zone furthest away from the house but angled his body towards me when I joined him. We fell into step easily and although he didn't say anything, the silence was comfortable, not strained like I expected.

We hit the end zone and Edward sat down, his legs stretched out in front of him, resting on his elbows. I stood awkwardly, wondering what he was doing, until he patted the ground next to him and took my hand, tugging on it gently until I slumped down beside him.

"That's not me, you know, that stuff," he started, his voice unusually wary. "I mean... it is, I am those things, but I don't... I mean... I think that..." He trailed off as his voice became more and more flustered. I put out my hand, placing it lightly on his arm in the hope of calming him. Both our eyes dropped to the point of contact when that electric feeling shot through me once again.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he whispered, his eyes not moving from where they were fixated on my hand on his arm. "I just, I hate that that's all that people ever see. I'm not just Edward Cullen - Quarterback. I do other things too."

"I barely know you, Edward. I can only go from what I see, which isn't much."

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed. "Nobody sees, everybody looks, but nobody sees."

"So show me," I returned, taking my hand from his arm and leaning on it. Edward's eyes followed the movement with an expression that could have been mistaken for disappointment.

"OK," his voice was so quiet now I could just barely hear him as he began to show me the real, no holds barred Edward Cullen.

"I don't want to go to Harvard," he shrugged, "I don't want to play football forever, I want to be a doctor like my father, but everybody has it in their heads that I'm going to be a great player and that I can make the NFL someday. I haven't told anybody that that's not what I want because I hate the thought of disappointing everybody. I would rather stay home and watch a movie or read a book than go to parties, I have no interest in any of the girls that throw themselves at me every day and I try so hard to let them down gently that at least three of them think that they're my girlfriend. I won't tell anybody why I'm not interested in those girls because if my best friend found out that I was crazy about his little sister then he'd probably tear me limb from limb."

His eyes gazed into mine, his final words hanging on the breeze and dancing around us as I tried to make sense of all he was saying.

"But, Emmett's your best friend," I stuttered, lamely. My mind reeling with what I thought he was trying to say.

"Yeah, he is," was his only reply as he lay back onto the grass, his eyes closed against the setting sun. I stared at him as he laid there, his perfect face taking on an orange hue in the fading light of the sun. His long elegant lashes were nestled against his high cheek bones and his lips were curved upwards in a soft smile. One hand lay down by his side, the fingers picking idly at the grass there; the other was at his head, his long fingers absent-mindedly running through his unruly bronze hair.

"Edward, I...I don't understand," I broke the silence, finally, his words making no sense to me.

"You, Bella. Emmett doesn't have another little sister does he?"

"No, no he doesn't, but I... I'm not... I'm just..."

"You're not just anything, Bella. Newton is a prick if he can't see what everybody else sees. You're beautiful and smart and funny as fuck when your guard is down. And you know what the best thing is?" I shook my head, my eyes wide, taking in all that he was saying and the intense look of truth in his eyes as he spoke.

"The best thing is that you don't realize how special you are. You walk around every day completely oblivious to the fact that half the male population of Forks High would give anything just to talk to you, or to hold your hand. You make me want to be a better person, just by being you. You're the most amazing person I've ever met, Bella and you have no idea."

I was about to respond, probably in incoherent grunts and mumblings since my brain couldn't think of a single intelligent response, when his lips pressed against mine, the soft velvet of his hands cupping my face as he kissed me. I hesitated for a moment, my mind going into overdrive at the impossibility of what was happening. This was Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen! My brother's best friend and the most popular guy in school. And he was kissing me, Bella Swan, awkward and painfully shy and apparently not as good at fading into the background as she thought.

But he liked me. And he knew me. Not just knew me in the sense that most people knew me, but he saw things that I kept deep inside, things that I doubted even my brother knew.

As his lips moved against mine I felt myself giving in to the moment and kissing him back. As he felt my hesitation pass he moved his hands from my cheeks, the fingers of one hand tangling in my long, loose hair, tilting my head back and deepening the kiss as the other arm snaked around my waist, pulling me in tighter to him. My body ran all over with sparks and tingles as his body pressed up against mine; a perfect fit, like two pieces of a puzzle which slotted together exactly.

As the kiss broke apart so that we could both come up for air he brought the other arm down and pulled me into a tight embrace, his chin resting on the top of my head as he whispered words that I had never heard before.

"You're beautiful, Bella."

His perfect lips dropped a soft kiss on my forehead before he buried his face in my curls, breathing in deeply several times and making soft contented crooning noises. I relaxed into his arms, the power of the connection between us intense and soothing in equal measure. But one thing struck me forcefully, lying there in his arms; that nothing had ever felt so right to me before, nowhere had ever felt quite so much like home.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Hey, so this isn't Twilight, in fact it isn't really any fandom. It's just what popped into my head when I looked at this week's photo set by Nostalgicmiss. All the pictures can be found here: picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com/ plus the others fabulous ladies posts. Anybody is welcome to join us if you want to try your hand at doing some photo prompts, feel free to check out the blog and get in contact if you want to join in. _**

**_Thank you to Kimmydonn for beta'ing this for me! _**

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**The Message**

The blazing sun hung high in the sky; it's silken rays landing on my bare legs, no longer casting the long shadows of the corn stalks that grew all around me. I watched as a blackbird hopped merrily amongst the golden crops, pecking at the ground for fallen seeds, his bright yellow beak standing out in vivid contrast to the sleek black of his feathers. His soft twittering was the only sound, save the breeze that rustled through the dry crops, whispering it's secrets onto the wind to be carried far away. I wondered whether the wind would betray me. If I told it my secrets, would it carry them away and tell somebody in a distant land? Or would it hold them forever, never telling a soul, locking them away until they faded like a wave on the shore?

My mobile phone was clutched tightly in my hand, the message written then deleted a hundred times over. I glared at the screen, almost willing it to make the decision for me. Send or delete? Tell or hide? One message. That's all it would take. Just one simple message. Three simple words and maybe it could stop. Maybe it could _all _stop.

I couldn't hide out in this field forever. It was only a matter of time until somebody caught on. It was just a question of who would notice first, the school or the farmer. He had to harvest his crops eventually and when he did there would be nowhere to hide any more.

I would miss this place. The small clearing in the middle of the field where the flattened corn stalks provided a comfortable space to lie back and just be. There were no sounds here but those that nature made. The birds singing busily in the trees, the crickets chirping happily in the bushes which bordered the field, and my favourite sound of all, the wind. The sound it made as it brushed through the crops and danced around the leaves of the trees was the most soothing music that nature had provided, like water, a stream trickling and tripping over a rocky riverbed.

The sky was pure, bright blue with a few soft clouds scattered around, suspended in the heavens like billowing cotton wool balls. I watched their progress as they sauntered lazily across the hazy sky and disappeared behind the tall corn plants and out of my sight.

A flock of birds, flying in a perfect V shape swooped and wheeled across the sky, never breaking their formation as they sped around, perfectly free. In my mind I soared with them, high in the heavens, above the planet below, completely free and completely content.

But humans don't fly, and of course the tranquility couldn't last. The peaceful silence that had enveloped me since I had dropped to the ground as the school bell had rung elsewhere, was suddenly shattered by the ridiculous ring-tone my stupid brother had locked onto my phone when I turned my back on him and his idiotic friends for one minute. There was a flurry of wings batting against the leaves of the tree as the shrill electronic sound broke the silence of the afternoon, the small screen flashing with my mother's number. So, the game was up. The school must have finally noticed I was missing, two and a half weeks later.

I pressed the pad of my finger against the silence button, not ready to talk to her yet. The text message still sat, unsent in my phone, waiting for the perfect moment to wing it's way into being and then they would know. I held my finger in place, watching the screen flashing for a few more moments, the handset vibrating softly in my hand before it stuttered into darkness once more, the message 'One Missed Call' appearing on the screen, undoubtedly sealing my mum's anger.

Her moody, erratic and irritable daughter was now also a truant. I could already imagine the disappointment that would be etched onto her face when I saw her after "school". Her eyes would be soft, hurt. Her mouth would be turned down sadly at the corners and the lines that were there more often than not since dad was taken away in the back of a police van, would deepen into a full frown.

I could bear anything from my mum - anything but disappointment - anything but that feeling of having let her down. She would be heartbroken. Every morning she dropped me at the school gates, all I had to do was walk inside. But every day for over two weeks, I had watched her drive away, seeing her bright red car disappear round the corner before I turned around and headed for this place. This special place where nobody could find me. Because in school they always found me. Every day.

My phone bleeped once more, quietly this time; just a message coming through. Mum. Of course.

_Jennie, where are you? Call me. Please. I'm worried. I love you, Mum x_

Guilt swept over me like a tidal wave as I realised that she wasn't just angry, not just disappointed, but she was very probably worried sick.

I slumped back onto the soft ground, my phone still held tightly in my hand, as a whole new set of clouds drifted overhead, a thin vapour trail weaving a path across the heavens, evidence of people being carried far away. I wondered about the plane that had left it's footprint across the sapphire sky. I wondered where it was going? Who was onboard? Why were they leaving? Or were they going home? Was running away ever really a viable solution to anything?

I remembered that line from my mum's favourite film, The Sound of Music. "You can't run away from your problems, you have to face them."

I could picture myself as a small child, curled into my mum's side as we watched the film, singing tunelessly to the songs as Julie Andrews' perfect voice crackled out from the elderly television.

Pulling the message up onto the screen one more time I stared at it for countless minutes. Three words. Just three and she would maybe understand. Not long words. Simple, easy. And yet so hard at the same time. My finger hovered over the send key, hesitating. Putting off the inevitable for just a bit longer, holding out for just a few more moments of paradise.

Then out of nowhere, the beautiful blackbird broke all the rules. It pecked around, every day. But never approached me. Never came to within less than 5 feet of me. Yet it chose that moment, that moment when my thumb was on the button to peck at my finger. Startled, my thumb squeezed against the phone key just hard enough to send those three words into cyber space, to betray me, not onto the wind but to somebody who would actually read them, understand them and be forced to react.

The words were out there now and there could be no taking them back.

My phone chirped again, another message coming through. My fingers shook warily as I fumbled over the keys to open it.

_Come home, sweetheart. Come home and we can talk. I love you, forever. Come home. Please? Mum x_

Sighing, I scrambled to my feet, looking around one more time at my favourite place in the world. The place that had offered me sanctuary every day. My place of peace and tranquility, where nobody ever found me.

When the bullies found out that I told, things were bound to get worse - they always did, didn't they? But I would always have this place, this little piece of paradise that was all mine. No matter what they did, they couldn't take that away from me.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters used. _**

**_A/N: Picture prompt can be found at picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com/?zx=d36b021c25207dcf_**

**_Thank you to __1MrsECullen for beta'ing this for me! _**

**___So here's a bit of Victoria :)_**

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**Diving for Pearls**

I stood staring at the small red house, my unrecognizable eyes glazing over with impossible tears as long forgotten memories tore at the embers of my heart. A perfect house, complete with white picket fence, skin- deep marriage and two point four children. The bright red wood paneling, which fronted the house, was kept in perfect condition. Every summer my father would spend a full weekend up a ladder painting it, keeping the façade impeccable, just as he kept the pretence of a happy loving family.

The house was faded now, the paint peeling and falling away after who knew how many years of neglect. The once perfectly maintained lawn and flowerbeds were now uncared for. The grass had grown so tall that it was nearly at my waist, and the flowerbeds were so overgrown with weeds that it would take a skilled gardener days to clear them. But I could still clearly see it the way it once was.

Red house, white shutters, just the way my mother always wanted. The house my father provided for her, to win her heart. They were foolish; they ought to have known that a house alone cannot create a happy marriage, a happy family.

They had one great joy in their lives, one perfect thing that was the glue that held the family together. Of course, when the glue was removed all that was left were loose fragments with nothing to keep them from floating apart. So float apart they did, with no direction, no sense of _anything_ really, anything but the grief that tore them apart and left me watching on helplessly, wondering what was so wrong with me that _I_ could not be the glue.

But she was everything that I wasn't. She was little with long, golden hair that flowed down her back like spun silk, and perfect wide eyes the color of cornflowers in summer. Her wide smile could light up a room and frequently did, her sweet laughter ringing out through the hallways, bringing sunshine into everybody's lives.

She was sunshine and lollipops, sugar and spice, all the things that little girls were supposed to be made of.

_Supposed to be. _

Venom prickled at my eyelids in the place of tears as I recalled the day my father brought her home from the hospital, his eyes alight and gazing at her in a way he had never once stared at me. She already had soft tufts of bright blonde hair poking out of the blanket she was tightly swaddled in. My father had shooed me out of the way, as I tried to get a peek into the bundle of blankets, desperate to see what could be so special that he would look at it so tenderly.

I had gone back to what I was doing, playing with an old doll in the corner of the room, absent-mindedly moving the worn out toy while keeping my eyes fixed on where he was rocking her gently in his arms, the soft sounds of Pearl's A Singer crooning from his mouth as he steadfastly refused to take his eyes off her.

As she grew up, she proved to be everything that I wasn't. Every little thing that I failed to be - sweet, pretty, funny and good natured - she oozed, while I continued on, largely unnoticed, the quiet one, the one who always had her nose in a book, the one with the thick red hair and freckles who paled in comparison to her perfect sister. I shrank back into the shadows - the perfect place for somebody who nobody wanted to see - and let her shine, the way she was obviously supposed to.

Pearl. Everybody's favorite little girl. Immortalized as a seven year old with bright golden pigtails, cornflower eyes and the fluffy pink dress with too many layers, which she was wearing the day she left us.

The whole town mourned her as though they had lost a great head of state or war hero. Nobody used their cars for weeks after Mr Jameson's old rusty Ford Cortina hit her as she skipped into the road. It was the car's fault, you understand, not her's. Never her's. She didn't look where she was going. She went everywhere with that skipping rope. The skipping rope my father bought for her the day she impressed the whole town with her piano recital. The skipping rope he burned to ashes along with the broken up fragments of her cherished instrument, the sad moans and squeals of the strings crying out as he bashed it to pieces with his axe.

The dense smoke had filled the air, choking the air out of my lungs as my mum begged for him to stop, tearing at his arms desperately as he swung the axe at the piano blindly, again and again, his eyes unfocused and blurred with tears as he refused to stop until each and every piece of the piano was broken apart.

When the axe swung too far, the thick wooden handle catching my mum on the side of her face, sending her crashing to the ground, her hand clutched over her bleeding face, I knew that it was over. The fabrication of a picture perfect family had come crashing down around us as my parent's less than loving marriage could no longer hold up under the strain of losing one child and still being stuck with the one that if they were honest with themselves they would rather have buried in that tiny coffin.

I climbed over the low picket fence my father had painstakingly erected around the house at my mother's insistence. 'A home is not a home without a white picket fence,' she had teased as he came in at the end of the day, sweaty and disgruntled about what he considered a pointless and time wasting task. It should have been obvious right from those early days, two people with so little in common could never agree on enough things to make a marriage work. In fact, as far as I could see the only thing that they ever did manage to agree on was that Pearl was the most beautiful, perfect child they could ever have wished for, and that both their worlds ended the day she died. My fingers trailed softly over the dry, peeling paint of the blue mailbox that stood, leaning sadly towards the ground, the number 43 in white paint barely visible now, the letters and cards that had once laid within just a distant memory now.

My fingers trailed through the tall, dry grass, the soft rustling sound breaking the dead silence, which had shrouded the place since I arrived. I fought my way through the jungle of weeds and plants, which had all tangled together in protest at lack of care, and made it around to the back of the house where the old porch swing still sat, its joints rusted, creaking and groaning with age. I sat tentatively, my keen ears listening out for any sign that the old metal couldn't take my weight. My mind swam with the memory of another time, another day when I sat right here, my legs curled up and my chin resting on my knees as I stared vacantly out at the garden.

"Hello, Victoria," his soft voice had pierced the silence, as he came and sat beside me. The strange man whom I had never laid eyes on before, sat beside me and placed his hand on my arm comfortingly. The pain I ought to have felt at the death of my father instead hit me as guilt for my lack of emotion. When you lose your father, you cry; that's how it works. And yet I couldn't shed one single solitary tear for him. I was twenty-two years old the day he died, my last living relative, yet I felt nothing. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of emptiness that these were the people who had given me life, yet they never gave me any reason to believe that they didn't regret it.

This man, this stranger sat by my side for hours as I stared vacantly at the perfectly manicured lawn with the color-coordinated flowerbeds. He didn't say anything, he just sat with me until the sun went down and I started to shiver, my teeth chattering loudly in the evening chill. His body shifting beside me pulled me from my non-existent thoughts as he shrugged out of his black leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders. Planting my arms through the sleeves, I gasped at the coolness of the material inside. He had been wearing it for hours; surely, it should be warm from his body heat.

Finally dragging my eyes from the garden in front of me, I glanced to my right at the stranger who was perched beside me. He was quite tall with long blonde hair that was secured at the nape of his neck in a bright red band. Noticing me staring at him, he looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine and causing me to jump back in alarm.

"Y-your eyes... What happened to your eyes?" I whispered, unable to tear my gaze away from his compelling gaze, his deep crimson eyes boring into my soul with their stunning intensity.

His hand reached out towards my face, his fingers splayed out as they gently caressed my cheek. Everything in me was telling me to recoil from his touch; my heart was pounding in my chest, but something inside wouldn't let me move from the spot I was frozen in. An odd electric current seemed to pass from his fingers and into my skin, emitting out from the point of contact and filling me with a comfortable sense of warmth and safety that I had never encountered before.

"Victoria," he murmured slowly, his voice gently caressing each syllable of my name as his fingers moved into my hair, tangling in the abundant locks and running down my back. His eyes followed their progress as though it was the most important thing in the world to him.

My mind whirled with the insanity of the situation I found myself in. By rights, this man should have scared me. He was a stranger to me, yet here he was, running his long thin fingers through my hair and gazing at me as though we had known each other forever. And yet I couldn't find it in myself to be afraid of him. The gentleness of his fingers and the reverent way that he looked at me and said my name screamed to me that I could trust him.

"Who _are _you?" I tilted my head to one side, a questioning look taking over my features as his hand-gripped mine, bringing it up to his lips where he ghosted a kiss on my knuckles before looking back up at me. The coolness of his touch not lost on me, deepening the riddle he posed to my sensibilities.

"I'm the one who saw you when you were invisible," he replied, a soft smile lighting up his serious face. "My name is James."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Another non-Twilight one this week. As usual the photo can be found at the blog here: picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com/?zx=9db143be857c1a0e_**

**_This is only a short one, somewhere between a drabble and a one shot. Just a bit of wishful thinking on my part, I think!_**

**_Thanks to Nostalgicmiss as always, for maintaining the blog! :)_**

* * *

**Losing Track of Time  
**

The metal beneath my feet was warm, heated by the midday sun as I walked along it. My toes splayed out and curled around the old disused railway track in order to keep my balance as I raised my face to the heavens, allowing the hot sun to warm me to my bones. The breeze fluttered and danced around me as I continued along the track, my sandals held in my outstretched hand, my feet preferring to be barefoot, enjoying the freedom it allowed them.

The day was perfect. My mobile phone was switched off and left at home and my watch was curled up on my desk, because nothing spoke freedom quite so eloquently as a day in the countryside, losing track of time.

Tomorrow would be business as usual. Grey constricting clothing, grey building, grey seven by six cubicle, grey computer and grey conversations with people whose names were forgotten before the calls were even disconnected.

But today was bright. Today was freedom. Today was sunshine, colourful places and a complete absence of traffic sounds. Today was being far enough from the nearest road that the only sounds were the soft flutter of my loose white skirt in the gentle breeze, the birds squealing and wheeling in the clear blue sky and the gentle tap tapping of my bare feet on the long forgotten metal of the old railway track.

As the tracks rounded a bend an enticing, green field stretched out in front of me, the long grass swaying and dancing in the breeze, a dance that only nature could choreograph.

Stepping off the track I put my sandals back onto my feet and clambered as gracefully as ever over the stile and into the field, dropping onto both feet on the soft grass. Gathering my long, loose skirt in one hand I started to run, enjoying the feel of the wind in my hair and on my face as I turned it towards the sky, my eyes closed against the brightness of the sun. My running feet collided with multitudes of the dandelion clocks which grew in their thousands in the field, sending their fairy-like seeds flying onto the wind and whirling around me as I started to spin on the spot.

Exhausted and dizzy from all the spinning I eventually collapsed in a heap onto the lush grass beneath me. There I lay, flat on my back, watching the clouds pass by slowly and the sun move across the sky. Each cloud became a face, each face became a reality and before long I was people watching and imagining lives for the fluffy cotton balls in the sky. Each cloud person had dreams and aspirations, but unlike everybody else, they would see their ambitions fulfilled, not watch their dreams turn to dust as the world moved too fast around them.

All too soon the sun started descending to the horizon, the world growing dimmer and dimmer in it's failing light, until I could no longer deny that my day of freedom, peace and tranquility was coming to an end, and it was time to find time again. Reluctantly I gathered myself together and headed for home, where the real world would catch up with me once more. Walking homewards I gazed back at the old railway tracks, dreaming of the people it had once carried away, to new lives, new places, new adventures. The part of me I suppressed, the part that longed for more, for adventure and freedom, ached as I left it all behind and went back to real life, wondering how long it would be before I could once more lose track of time.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I do however own a copy of that ridiculous new Bree book which I bought in a fit of crazy. Maybe I'll read it! Who knows?_**

**_Thanks to Nostalgicmiss for setting up the blog and managing it. The photos can be found there along with everybody else's entries. If you're interested in having a go at writing for it please feel free to contact us. We like new people! :D _**

**_http:/picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com/?zx=8d5ee599cd6f6d61  
_**

* * *

**On the Edge**

I stand on the edge of the world, my toes curled around the craggy rocks, which drop away into the valley below. The sun clings to the rocks and trees as it is dragged away, signaling the end of yet another day.

Another day without him.

The golden leaves on the trees shimmer and sparkle in the fading sunlight, giving the valley an ethereal glow as I stare at it, toes curled, arms outstretched beside me, poised and ready to fly.

My eyes close, as I sway precariously on the spot, the fading sunlight no more than an orange hue on the inside of my eyelids, highlighting the blood vessels there, carrying the blood around my body. The blood that keeps me alive, keeps me meandering on aimlessly from day to day.

Searching. Always searching. For a life that abandoned me the day he left, the day he said that he didn't want me, didn't need me anymore.

"_Edward_." The whispered name sounds like blasphemy on my frail, human tongue. My brow creases at the jolt of pain that flashes through me at the simple word.

They say that each journey begins with a single step. But whoever '_they' _are, they do not say which direction the step should be taken, when you are standing on the edge of the world, staring into the infinite possibilities in front and ignoring the dark, empty void behind. They don't say which way to walk when all you can see ahead is darkness, loneliness, sleepless nights and endless days with nothing to break up the monotony.

If my sixteen-year-old self could see me now she would be appalled that I would allow a boy to make me feel this way. Strong Bella, independent Bella, perpetually _single_ Bella would take one look at me and think '_who is this girl?' _And she would be right. I don't know what I was thinking, allowing myself to fall so far, so quickly for a guy who was so clearly too good for me all along.

It should not have taken me by surprise when he stood there that day and told me it was all over, that he was leaving and taking my world with him. But it did. It brought me to my knees in surprise, then crashing down further and further until the world swallowed me up and left just a husk behind.

I close my eyes now against the onslaught of memories, which threatens to overwhelm me completely. My outstretched arms curl inwards reflexively, crossing protectively around my torso, holding together the pieces of what's left of me. Cracked, jagged pieces which snag and tear at tender flesh each and every time I allow a memory through the closely weaved net I've erected around my mind. But the net is breached, ripped and torn apart and the images hit me relentlessly, one after another, crashing over me like a tidal wave, dragging me deeper and deeper into the darkness until I can hardly breathe from the pain.

"You said it would be as though you never existed," I accuse to the valley below, my shout echoing off the bare rocks, repeating over and over until the trees in the distance absorb the sound.

"You lied to me, Edward. YOU LIED TO ME!" I am nearly screaming now, salty tears stinging my cheeks as my anger at his deceit tears me apart at the seams.

Looking down at the chasm beneath me, my eyes blurred from the tears which refuse to stop falling; I can see my salvation. The fall is far, hundreds of feet, with hard, jagged rocks at the bottom.

Nobody could survive that fall.

Nobody except...

No.

I shake my head to stop myself from going there, and raise my eyes to the darkening sky. I don't know what I am looking for. Divine intervention? Lightning bolts from heaven? A message in the clouds? I don't know. Just something. Anything. But all there is, is an infinite, inky blue that stretches from horizon to horizon, interrupted only by a few stars, which twinkle lamely, trying to shine in the twilight sky.

My arms stretch out beside me once more, ready to fly. Freedom beckons below. Freedom from the memories, freedom from pain, freedom from _him. _Forever.

My eyes flutter closed as I allow myself to picture his face one last time. His ghostly pale, flawless skin, his perfect, marble lips and his smoldering, intense butterscotch eyes. As I take a deep breath, preparing to plunge down into the abyss I would swear I hear his voice, calling my name softly.

"_Bella_." His voice is soft velvet as it caresses the syllables of my name. My breath catches in my throat, the accuracy of my hallucination playing with the determination in my mind.

No, Bella. It's just a memory. He's gone. Long, long gone.

"_Bella!_" More insistent this time the velvet has gone, it has turned frantic.

Frantic isn't right. Frantic isn't how his voice should sound in my head. I want the smooth back.

I lean forward onto the balls of my feet; the anticipation of the fall makes my heart pound furiously in my chest. My arms fly up to the sky, ready to dive, when strong arms close around me, dragging me back from my salvation. The smooth voice cracks as it repeats my name over and over, as cool arms crush me to a familiar chiseled chest and a face burrows into my hair.

"Edward?" I question, my mind unable to reconcile the voice, the chest, the arms, the feel of his touch that I would know anywhere.

The face in my hair inhales deeply, and then exhales in a sigh, gentle fingers caress my cheeks as he pulls back and I stare into eyes that drip with molten honey. Then the velvet returns, all traces of panic lost as he croons my name, each letter that drips from his tongue reminds me of why I fell so hard in the first place.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. Forgive me, please?"

And I do. Because without him there is nothing. Nothing but the darkness and the loneliness. He is air and light, he is smiles and laughter, he is baseball in thunderstorms and piano melodies just for me. He is everything; there is no life, no love without him.

I nod as I burrow my face into his chest once more, my arms drawing a tight circle around his torso as his shirt soaks up the tears, which fall freely down my face. His arms hold me to him tightly and we are as we were destined to be. Two halves of the same whole.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer: Still don't own Twilight. Still wish I did! _**

**_A/N: Thank you to Tressa (1MrsECullen) for her awesome and super quick beta skills. You are awesome, thank you so much! _**

**_Thank you to Weezy (Nostalgicmiss) for all her work updating and maintaining the blog. If you fancy joining us you're very welcome to. We even now have a special section for part time writers, so if you don't want to write each week but you would like to give it a try then get in touch! _**

**_The photos can be found here at the blog: http:/picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com/_**

* * *

**He Made Me Feel Safe**

"Come on, Bella." They were up ahead of me, following the trail of stepping stones that ran down the middle of the brook and into the forest. I was running as fast as my short, four year old legs would carry me. The pretty dress that my mom had considered appropriate wear for playing in the garden was hanging over my arm as I ran. My little legs pushed forward, desperate to keep up with the boys and prove that I was old enough to play with them, and I didn't need to be kept in the confines of the sandpit while they were allowed to explore.

I baulked when I reached the water's edge, unsure if I could jump the distance to the first stone. The boys were all twice my age and their long legs could easily make the distance. The water was mere inches deep, but to my young mind, it might as well have been a vast river with monsters lurking beneath the surface, waiting to drag me under if my toes breached the surface.

I stared at the gap, making calculations in my head that would undoubtedly be inaccurate and land me flat on my back in the cold water.

"Come _on_, slow poke," my brother, Michael called from up ahead where he and his best friends were poised on the edge of the forest. I looked up at him with wide, frantic eyes as he turned away and started to run into the forest without me. I was too far from home now to find my way back and if they left me here, I would be lost.

I could feel the tears stinging at my eyes at the thought of being left alone out in the middle of the countryside with nobody to take care of me and nobody to help me find my way home again. The gentle babbling of the brook and the singing of the birds in the trees were deafening to me as I dropped down to the ground and cried, calling out for Michael to come back.

"Go home to mummy, baby," his voice called out from the menacing darkness of the forest; and then there was silence as he and his friends ran away, taking with them the only security I had.

Panic bubbled up in my chest and threatened to spill over as my pathetic tears turned to sobbing and then wailing, which sent the birds flying from the trees in a flurry of flapping wings.

"Don't cry Bella." A soft velvety voice from above me brought an abrupt halt to my crying, as I looked up, squinting into the sunlight to see who was there.

Michael's friend, Edward was standing on the first stepping-stone, watching me awkwardly, scuffing his feet against the stone with his hands buried deep into his pockets. His bronze hair was standing in unruly waves that kept dropping into his face in the breeze. Every so often one of his hands would emerge from his pocket and sweep the offending strands away only for them to fall back into his eyes and irritate him again.

I watched him carefully, as his hand reached out towards me, his eyes expectant, waiting. I eyed his outstretched arm cautiously; my brother's friends had tricked me too many times in the past just to trust him right off the bat. I pushed myself up off the ground, still eyeing his hand warily and then stood looking at him.

"You want to come or not?" he questioned, shifting slightly so that his body was angled more towards the forest, his eyes longingly following the boisterous sounds of laughter and games coming from within.

I could feel my eyes widening in fear when the unmistakable sounds of terror tag began to seep out through the trees and I took a step back from Edward's offered hand.

"N-no thank you," I stammered. I didn't like that game. Last time I played it with my brother and his friends, I wound up in hysterical tears, which even my mommy couldn't stop.

Edward turned again towards the forest, a slightly desperate look in his eyes as the screaming and shouting got louder and more raucous.

"You go on," I whispered, turning back to the field I had run through only moments before, in the vain hope that the way home would have miraculously appeared there.

"I can't just leave you, Bella. You're little, you could get lost."

"Michael did," I responded, trying not to sniff over the thought of my big brother leaving me all on my own out here.

"Yeah, well Michael's an idiot; he's just trying to impress Emmett so he can get in with his mates. What he doesn't realize is that Emmett wouldn't leave his baby sister on the edge of a forest in the middle of nowhere all on her own."

I stiffened at his words and stood as tall as I could.

"I'm not a baby," I corrected him; proudly standing on my tip toes to make myself look as old as possible. "I'll be five soon." He laughed at that, but not unkindly.

"Sure, squirt; you're practically an old fogey." He laughed even louder at his own joke. "When's your birthday then?"

"Not tomorrow but the next day," I replied, counting the days out on my fingers as though it was necessary. His face lit up in a bright smile at that, a smile that carried one corner of his mouth up higher than the other did so his face looked crooked.

"Monday," he laughed, stepping easily from the stone onto the grass where I was standing and mussed my hair with his hand.

"So what did little Bella ask for her big fifth birthday?"

I frowned at the thought of what I asked my mummy for, and how it had split her face and made her look sadder than usual.

"I asked for my daddy to come home," I whispered, staring down at my feet where my perfect, white sandals were scuffing awkwardly at the grass.

"Oh," was all the response I got. It was all that he could say really.

"He's in Alansigan," I attempted, failing miserably to say the name that Michael had attempted to coach me to say properly. "He's a brave soldier, mummy says."

"He'll come home, Bella. One day he'll be back." I shifted my eyes up to his, feeling his emerald green ones gazing at me with a burning intensity that at four years old I had no hope of understanding.

"He will?" I asked, uncertain, my eyes holding his and gaining confidence at the certainty that I saw there.

"Sure he will, you'll see." Then he kissed me, not a proper kiss. Not like the ones, I saw on the TV when my mummy was watching her 'stories' as she called them. It was just a peck, on the end of my nose, but it made me forget all about my daddy in danger all those miles away, and it made me forget about Michael leaving me all alone and scared. It made me feel safe.

Edward Cullen had been making me feel safe for seventeen years.

He made me feel safe when I was six and he was ten, when the letter came telling me that my father would not be coming home again. He made me feel safe the day they lowered the flag draped coffin into the ground, his hand warm around mine as silent tears flowed down my face.

He made me feel safe when I was fifteen, he was nineteen, and my brother dared me to go cliff diving at La Push with them. He jumped off the edge with me when my stubbornness wouldn't allow me to refuse. He held tightly to my hand as we kicked our way back to the surface of the freezing water, which crashed around us, threatening to drag us below the surface.

He made me feel safe when I was sixteen, he was twenty, and my boyfriend, Tyler broke up with me because I refused to sleep with him. He held me in his arms as I cried, and never once made me feel stupid.

He made me feel safe when I was eighteen, he was twenty-two, and he and my brother drove me to college. He ran his fingers down my cheeks, a longing look in his bright green eyes as he whispered to me to be safe and to have fun. I watched as he drove away in his bright silver Volvo and wished that he could stay.

He made me feel safe on my twenty-first birthday when he was twenty-five and he bought me my first legal drink, and my second... and my third... and... He rubbed his hand soothingly down my back while holding my hair back with the other as I experienced my first hangover and provided the Tylenol that made the tiny people stop partying inside my brain. He called in sick to work for me and stayed by my side all day, insisting on fluids to counter dehydration and maintained a constant stream of apologies the whole day for getting me so drunk.

Then he made me feel safe that night as we snuggled together on the couch, my comforter draped over us as we watched Titanic together, at my insistence. He brushed the tears from my face with his gentle fingers when my heart broke over Jack's death for the hundredth time, and then he kissed me for only the second time in my life.

It wasn't merely a comforting peck on the nose this time though. This time it was smoldering eyes, almost luminous as they gazed into mine as though they could see the future there. This time is was a slow, torturous descent as his lips found mine. It was his soft tongue, dancing an age-old dance and making it brand new as his fingers tangled in my hair. It was the choice of running out of oxygen, over allowing any space between us for breathing. It was panting and sighing when the cool air of the badly heated flat hit my lips once more, signaling that his were gone. It was him whispering the sweetest words in my ear that I had ever heard, as he cradled me against his chest.

"I've wanted to kiss you ever since you were four years old and you couldn't make the jump to the stepping stones."

I realized that _safe _was just one of many things that he had made me feel since I was a little girl, lost and alone by a jump that seemed just too big for me to make. He had been there every time the jump seemed too far or the climb seemed too high. He had held me up every single time life threatened to make me fall down. He had been my own personal stepping-stone, keeping me from falling into the water at every turn.

I didn't even have to think about it as I looked up at him, his emerald eyes still held the same expression they had done seventeen years ago, and his hair still fell irritatingly into his eyes. I fell into the deep, green pools that had held me up for so long and kissed him deeply, kissed him as though my life depended on it. Depended on _him_.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Another non-Twilight piece this week. The pictures can be found here: http:/picprompt(dot)blogspot(dot)com/ as always :)_**

**_Thank you to Weezy for continuing to work so hard maintaining the blog. _**

* * *

**Can I Help You?**

I don't exactly know who Faith was. She flitted in and out of my life in the space of mere minutes, changing everything I knew about myself, about life and love, all in one single encounter.

At first I thought she was an angel. Her appearance in the park that day was supremely angelic, as she spun on the spot, the autumn sun hanging low in the sky and giving the illusion of a halo around her spun gold hair.

As I got closer a soft, tuneful humming sound met my ears, providing a perfect accompaniment to her dance-like steps through the rustling piles of fallen leaves at her feet. The vivid autumn colours of the leaves, still drifiting from the trees in a firey patchwork of bright golds, reds and oranges, were in stark contrast to the light, white sun dress she was wearing. Her skin was almost as white as her dress, which left her alabaster shoulders exposed to the biting, October wind.

I looked around the almost deserted park, trying to see her parents, assuming that they would have a coat for her, but I could see no one. The child could not have been more than ten years old.

I stood, leaning against the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree, watching her dance, mesmorised by her childish innocence as she spun and weaved amongst the leaves. She was dancing on her tip-toes, her arms stretched out to her sides, her fingers splayed as though they were trying to capture the wind as she twirled.

I was astounded by her co-ordination as she twisted around, her eyes serenely shut and a small smile gracing her small, ruby red lips. Sighing, I tried to recall what it felt like to be so young, free and innocent. To have the courage to dance in public like that, regardless of who may be watching. To drop off the chains of self-consciousness that bind so many as we grow older and just allow yourself to let go and be free.

Lost in my thoughts, it took me a moment to realise that the melodic humming had stopped, and that the child was staring at me from where she stood, several feet away. Her head was cocked to one side as she appraised me with a childish curiosity that I found both refreshing and exposing. Slowly, but deliberately, she walked towards me, her piercing green eyes catching me off guard as they seemed to see right into my soul, as I cautiously watched her approach me.

"Can I help you?" Her words were so simple, so common, and yet the way she said them made them so much more. This wasn't a simple enquiry; she wasn't just checking whether I needed the time, or 20p for the bus ride home.

'Can I _help _you?' she had said, as though she truly could.

"I... umm..." I started lamely, causing her head to tilt further to the side and a small crease to appear between her eyes. She stayed that way for a moment, that felt like a year, then shook her head as though she were snapping herself out of it, and held out her hand to me expectantly.

I quirked an eyebrow at her questioningly, drawing another frown from her angelic face.

"Dance with me." It wasn't a demand or a request, just a statement of fact, as though it were obvious to her that we were going to dance together in the park. As though she knew for sure that I wouldn't say no, laugh in her face or run away screaming.

Taken aback by the complete confidence in her voice and her face, I took her small hand in mine and allowed her to lead me to the path where she had been dancing, before my scrutiny drew her attention.

Her hand left my loose grip as she reached her destination, and she began to once more twirl on the spot, singing lightly to herself. It took her a few rotations before she stopped once more, eyeing me curiously when she realised that I wasn't joining in, but continuing to watch her with some trepidation.

Her eyes widened in question; clearly my self-consciousness was completely alien to her.

"You make your own music," she started, her voice soft and lulling, like the first lazy day of summer. "And then you dance to it."

"I...uh, I mean..." I ought to have been embarassed at my inability to form a single, coherent sentence in this child's presence. There was something about her that made me feel utterly and hopelessly exposed, and yet completely safe at the same time.

Her eyes were like the ocean, sea green pools meant for diving into and allowing yourself to be swallowed whole as you did. They stared at me now, wide, expectant and waiting. My mouth opened and closed several times, clutching for words, any words, just something coherent to say.

After several moments of watching me struggle, she sighed and stepped forward once again, resting her hand on my arm and gazing at me with eyes that were older than her form.

"You have to dance as though nobody is watching," she spoke, as though it ought to be obvious. "It will help."

I wanted to ask her how. How to be so innocent, so free, so utterly devoid of the social awkwardness that crippled me every single day. I wanted to ask how she even knew that 'help' was something that I needed. I wasn't even certain that it was.

Taking my hand in her's once again, she began to move, soundlessly now, but rhythmically nonetheless.

"You make the music, I'll make the dancing," she almost sang, her voice like church bells on the wind and her eyes focused intently on mine.

"What do I sing?" I whispered, more than a little confused by the situation I found myself in.

"Whatever's in here," was her response, as she placed her hand softly over my heart.

My face dropped at her words, my eyes falling to where her hand still sat over my pounding heart.

"I'm not sure there's anything in there any more," I explained honestly, not quite understanding how this child was cracking my defences so easily.

Her face fell into a frown, her wise eyes looking like they were fighting back tears, as her hand lifted mine and placed it over her's on my heart.

"Of course there is; there's everything."

I shook my head sadly, turning away from her, letting her hand and mine drop from my empty heart. I fought hard against the tears which I had stockpiled, ever since the night the heatwave broke; the night he stood in the rain and said goodbye to me. The night my heart silently shut down and my mind built up impenetrable defences that had sat solidly in place ever since.

"It's beating. You're alive, but not really living." Her words brought me to a standstill as I neared the edge of the path, about to weave my shortcut through the trees.

I stood, my hands clenching into fists by my side, wanting to walk away and forget this encounter, but not quite able to. Sighing heavily, I turned on the spot to face her.

She was standing, facing me with a leaf held up to her face. The leaf had a jagged hole in it, maybe a product of the weather or some insect, and she was using it as a spy hole through which to stare at me with a sad expression and eyes that knew too much.

"You don't know me," I spat at her, with thinly veiled anger.

Her lips curved upwards into a look that could have been a smirk, but for the innocence in her eyes.

"I don't need to." I hesitated slightly before turning to walk away again. "I see what I need to see." Her voice cut through the silence that had fallen all around us, even the wind had paused momentarily, as though it too were eavesdropping on our conversation.

"And?" I asked, not really sure I wanted to hear the answer.

"You want to dance," she started, no hint of doubt colouring her tone. "But you're scared."

My mouth opened, ready to form a response, when she continued.

"You're scared of opening up and letting go, and you're afraid of what it will mean for you if you do."

"And what's that then?" I questioned, not bothering to hide the hostility in my voice, despite the fact I was talking to a child.

"Feeling," she answered simply.

"I feel," I argued, unsure why I wasn't quite able to put the emphasis into my words that I had intended.

"Do you?" she asked, her head cocked to the side once more, her eyes accusing, but compassionate as she watched my anger. "Do you really?"

"Of course I do," I returned, my conviction getting less and less with each statement.

"You're sure about that?" she asked. "Because, where I come from, feeling means feeling _everything,_ including pain."

"And where exactly is it that you come from?"

"Is that important?" Her eyebrows were high on her young forehead and her eyes were blazing with intensity.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"So do you." She was definitely smirking now, her eyes wide in challenge.

A heavy silence fell around us that she seemed far more comfortable with than me. Her hands hung loosely by her sides and her smile remained dreamily on her lips as she stood, completely at ease, while I fidgeted uncomfortably.

The wind continued to gust around us, blowing her golden hair around her face as she watched me, waiting for me to respond in some way.

I was torn. Torn between leaving, going home and trying to forget I ever met her, or staying and allowing this child with innocence in her eyes and wisdom in her words to draw me in even further.

"I'm not afraid of dancing," I spat out eventually, when the silence became too cumbersome and stifling to tolerate any longer.

Her face broke out into a beaming smile which lit up the darkening park.

"Prove it," she said softly, reaching a hand out towards me once more and beseeching me with her eyes to go with her. Huffing, I took her hand and let her lead me again to the pathway. I stood with my arms crossed over my chest, scowling petulantly, but determined to move to the beat in some way, just to prove a point.

"You're tense," she stated, obviously.

"And?"

"You can't dance when you're tense." She tugged on my arms determinedly, pulling them down and taking my hands in hers.

"I can," I said stubbornly, trying to tug them back. "I'm gifted."

"You're scared," she said knowingly, that irritating smirk arising onto her face again.

"Gifted," I snarked back, but relented my tugging.

"_Scared," _she muttered under her breath.

"Ugh, you're so infuriating," I fumed, knowing deep down that she was right. I was scared. I was scared of being seen, scared of tripping over my own feet, scared of feeling nothing, and terrified of feeling _everything _all at once.

Instead of the frown or scowl that would adorn most people's faces after being told they were infuriating, her's lit up in a wistful smile.

"I've heard that before," she mused, her eyes looking amused at some re-awakened memory.

"Lots of times, I imagine," I pushed, feeling ridiculous being so juvenile, when the young girl before me wasn't biting.

"A few." She pulled on my hands then, throwing them out to the sides then waving them around, as though she was desperately trying to loosen them out. I wanted to tell her that the kinks there were old and not going anywhere any time soon, but she looked so focused, so determined that there was a part of me that thought maybe she could do what she set out to achieve. Indeed, this girl struck me as someone who wouldn't give up on something she was intent upon. She had certainly been wearyingly persistent with me.

"You're still tense."

"Yes, thank you, I'm aware of that."

"Well, why aren't you relaxing?"

"Because some strange child is waving my arms around in the middle of the park," I offered sarcastically, just stopping short of sticking my tongue out at her.

"So let's dance," she said, smiling widely and dropping our joined hands down. "You do the music."

"What do I sing?" I asked again, hoping the answer would be less annoying this time.

"Whatever is in your head, what do you hear?"

"You. Nagging me to dance," I came back sharply, bringing yet another smile to her lips.

"And?" she prodded, waiting expectantly for a non-abusive response.

"That's it. Just you. All over the place, that's all I can hear," I came back, running my hands all over my head and glaring at her accusingly.

"There must be something in there, you're a musician for goodness sake." I stumbled back a few feet at her words, dropping her hands like lead weights and wrapping my arms around myself protectively.

"How do you know that? You _can't _know that. That's not possible." My heart had begun to hammer in my chest, and all the insanity of my situation came crashing over me in a wave as I realised what I was doing.

She, however, looked completely unconcerned, the same light-hearted smile still floating on her lips as she watched me recoiling in horror. Then, with an almost amused look she gestured towards the oak tree that had been my leaning post as I watched her dance. Refusing to take my eyes off her, I glared harder, half expecting her to suddenly grow another head, or pull out a weapon on me.

"Isn't that your flute sticking out of your bag?" she asked innocently, once more pointing over to the tree, taking my eyes with her finger this time.

"Oh," was all I could sputter out, feeling suddenly very stupid. Her expression softened, and once more I was blown away by the years of accumulated experience and wisdom I could see staring out through her bright, green eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she chirped, happily walking towards me again. "But don't think you're getting out of dancing either."

"Right... dancing... yeah."

"I can't dance without music," she stated, nodding at me as though she was a conductor bringing me in.

_What the hell? _I thought to myself, stepping forward and turning my head to the sky, which was just visible through the rapidly balding branches of the trees above. Closing my eyes, I took several deep breaths, enjoying the taste of autumn on my lips, the damp scent of the greenery and the smokey tang of a bonfire hovering on the wind. Filling my lungs I emptied my mind, letting it go blank the way I always did before I played or composed new music. I let my surroundings fill up my senses completely then began to hum gently. It wasn't an old melody and nothing special, but in the moment it was perfect.

I felt small hands close around mine once more and she started to sway lightly on the spot, her index finger tapping against my hand in perfect time to my melody. Then, releasing one of my hands she started to spin me around with our arms outstretched and still connected by the tightly gripping fingers of one hand.

And then I was free; her hand released mine as she fell into a dance all of her own and left me to my own devices. Lost in the moment, the beauty of the trees overhead and the ethereal other-worldliness of the child I was dancing with, I allowed myself to succumb to the pleasure of dancing like nobody was watching.

We danced, and we danced like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. We didn't stop when a cyclist rode by, his wheels crunching through the autumn leaves on the ground, we didn't stop with a soft pitter-patter announced the arrival of the rain that they forecast for days ago. We didn't stop until my lungs failed and the music was forced to a stop. As she had said, she couldn't dance without music.

Gasping for breath, and glaring at her for being perfectly fine, I slumped against a tree. The leaves gathered at the foot of the vast trunk made for a comfortable seat as I watched her stand in front of me. Her eyes were bright and shining with happiness as she smiled joyfully at me.

"Thank you for dancing with me," she almost sang as she sat beside me, still smiling happily.

"I... I think I liked it," I replied, returning her smile and making her's even brighter.

"I knew you would."

I considered her for a long moment, still thoroughly confused by her and the wisdom her young mind seemed to posses. Her eyes held an intoxicating mix of childish innocence and an intuition and shrewdness well beyond the possible age of her small body.

"I'm Faith," she said sweetly, reaching her small hand out to me once more. I took it in mine, surprised by it's warmth considering the biting wind and the scant clothing she was wearing.

"Where's your coat, Faith?" I asked sternly, raising an eyebrow at her in question and earning myself a huff and a disdainful look in reply.

"I don't feel the cold."

"Of course you don't, how silly of me," I muttered, rolling my eyes at her quirkiness.

"You didn't tell me your name," she stated, leaning forward so that her elbows rested on her knees and her chin sat in her hands. She looked like a little girl then, for the first time since I first saw her.

"You don't know it already?" I teased, smiling crookedly at her while wondering if maybe she _could _know my name somehow.

"Of course not, I only just met you," she chided, looking at me as though _I _was the crazy one.

"I'm Ally," I said, not entirely sure that I was doing the right thing, but once again letting instinct take over.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ally," her sweet voice chimed, as my eyes drifted back to the pathway where we had danced. I rested my cheek on my arm as I gazed, remembering the feeling of dancing, of being so free and light as my body moved in time to the melody I created. I allowed a small smile to creep onto my face as I recalled how it had felt to let myself _feel _anything for the first time in so long that the numbness had begun to feel normal. My body shuddered as a small tears escaped my eye, leaving a track of emotion down my cheek.

"Thank you," I whispered, the blustering wind stealing my words away and carrying them deeper into the park. There was no response from behind me. I wasn't exactly surprised; Faith hadn't been particularly loquacious in the short time I had spent with her. But the silence seemed just a little too empty, a little _too_ silent.

Turning my head to look at her I started in shock when the spot she had been sat in was vacant. She was gone. My eyes scanned the area frantically for her, but came up empty. She was nowhere to be seen; she had vanished like a song on the breeze

I never saw Faith again. Her time in my life was so short that I was never even certain that she was real. But the effect that she had on me was definitely real. I would never forget those few short moments we had together, dancing, arguing, learning and most importantly of all, _feeling._

I would never forget to feel again.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Not Twilight... again. All original characters. Thanks to Kimmydonn for betaing and Nostalgicmiss for running the blog. Also thanks to NewMoonaholic and 1MrsECullen for pre-reading when I was being emo over it! Love you all x **_

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**A Storm in a Cider Can**

"Shurrup!" I groaned, at the incessant banging noise which pierced through my skull and invaded every single cell of my tender brain with it's unrelenting evil.

Groaning, I rolled over onto my back, rubbing the lack of sleep from my eyes and straining to look at my bright pink alarm clock to see which particular un-Godly hour I was being woken at.

Not there.

Not my night stand.

Not my bedroom. And therefore, most decidedly, _not _my bed.

A light snore from behind me brought my bleary eyes sharply into focus. Utterly terrified of what I would see when I looked, I twisted slowly where I sat, taking in an array of Star Wars, Star Trek and Battlestar Galactica posters on the dull brown walls. Then, taking a deep breath into a mouth that was frankly furrier and more disgusting than a mole's backside, I closed my eyes tightly and swung the rest of the way round to face the snoring culprit.

I cracked one eye open ever so slightly then I snapped it shut again quickly, too much of a pussy to find out whose bed I apparently fell asleep in last night. Reaching instead with my hand, hoping to perform some sort of miraculous identification using only my sense of touch, my fingers alighted on what felt like a pair of glasses, perched on the bridge of what felt like a distinctly non-female nose.

This method of snorer identification was not working. If I was honest with myself, it had been doomed to failure from the start. But who is honest with themselves when they're _that _level of hungover _and_ trying to figure out where the hell they spent the night? Show me one person who would just swing right on round and look with their eyes!

Inwardly flinching, I tried to see through my closed eyelids, moving them apart just enough to let small flakes of light through, but no actual images. This was not going well.

I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself for what I was about to see, as I tried to suck it up, when I was interrupted in my bravery by a sudden snort followed by a shifting of the bed.

"Umm," a croaky voice beside me started before a rasping cough took it's place. That was no use; how was I supposed to figure out somebody's identity from one word? Not even a word really. Barely even a syllable, just a noise and then a cough. Definitely not enough to go on.

Forcing my eyes quickly into the open position before I could talk myself out of it, I found myself face to face with the last person on the planet I expected to ever wake up next to.

_'Not cool, Donna,' _I mentally chastised myself. What in the name of all that's holy was I doing in a bed with _him?_

It appeared that he was engaged in a similar activity to me, his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his fingers were hanging in the air, pointing right for my chest. I didn't even dare look down to see whether those babies were covered up or not.

Having said that, the potential for getting the hell out of there before _he _plucked up the courage to open his eyes, was going to be severely depleted if I didn't even know my naked status.

Forcing my chin to tilt downwards against it's will, my brain twisted and swirled painfully inside my skull, a reminder of just how much cheap cider I had imbibed the previous night. Making a mental note _never_ to drink again, I plucked up the courage to do a quick inventory of my body, scanning downwards and sighing with unbridled relief when I caught definite sight of underwear.

I did a quick scan of the room and spotted my bright blue dress on the floor beside the bed. Diving for it, I managed to completely screw up the move, winding up on the floor with the bed sheet twisted around me and _his _confused eyes gawping down at me as I nursed my poor aching head.

"Donna?" his painful sounding voice managed to croak out as he continued to gawp at me.

"Ah... yeah?" I responded, trying to sound innocent and nonchalent, as though lying, half naked on his floor, with absolutely no memory of how I ended up there, was a completely normal activity for a rainy Sunday morning.

"You're on my floor," he stated. Well d'oh.

"Yes, so it would seem," I came back lamely. Well his statement was hardly The Gettysburg Address. Lame for lame; it was only fair.

"You've not been there before." More ground-breaking words of wisdom from the king of stating the obvious.

"Also true," I agreed, nodding then instantly regretting the movement and cringing at the agony in my poor, poor brain. "Any painkillers down here anywhere?" I raised my eyebrows hopefully, but let them fall in disappointment at the regretful look on his face.

Trying a different tack, I tilted my head on my shoulders, trying to ignore the tiny people playing billiards with my brain in pursuit of the truth.

"We didn't...?" I was clinging on to the still-very-much-on-my-body underwear with every fibre of my being as I waited for his confirmation. It didn't come anything like quickly enough for me to be confident of his answer, and when it did come it was less than convincing. His eyes went wide as he shook his head slowly, his expression strongly suggesting that he was telling me what I wanted to hear.

"Peter, do you even remember last night?" I only felt ever so slightly hypocritical asking him that, considering that the last thing I remembered clearly was stealing a can of cider right out of the hand of one of the boys on the football team. I had chugged it down in one, before cheekily placing the empty can back in his hand, patting him on the cheek in thanks and then dancing away.

His deer in the headlights look told me that he had about as much party recall as me. Dammit, I always thought those geeky types were supposed to be responsible or something.

"Riiiight," I started, reaching for my dress with rather more coordination than the last time. "Well," I pulled it over my head, feeling instantly better for being covered up. "Whatever happened here..." I gestured between the two of us, my finger darting back and forth. "Didn't happen. Okay?"

He nodded quickly, then moaned, his hand shooting to hold his head, before he fell back down against his pillows, his fingers tangling in his spiky brown hair and his eyes shut tight behind his thick glasses.

"See that, right there," I pointed to his aching head. "_That _is why you keep painkillers in your damn bedroom!"

"Yeah, thanks for the tip, I'll bear it in mind the next time... Oh no wait, I'm _never drinking again!"_

I couldn't help but laugh as he echoed my sentiments from only moments before.

"Yeah, me either," I snorted, using the edge of the bed to pull myself shakily to my feet. "I guess I'll uh, let myself out. Thanks for the bed and... whatever."

I plucked my ridiculously high heeled shoes from the floor, considering putting them on for all of about three seconds before coming to my senses and opting for bare feet instead.

"I'll see you around, I guess," I murmered, before heading for the door, finding the protagonist of the irritating banging noise on the other side with his fist raised to start pounding on the door again.

His eyes widened with shock as he took me in, leaving Peter's room, having obviously spent the night.

"He's all yours," I said, snorting at the slogan on his t-shirt, which read, '_Magic is just stuff science hasn't made boring yet_.'

"Right... okay," he returned, backing into the room slowly, never taking his eyes off me as I watched him until the door closed behind him.

'_Great," _I thought to myself. I was barely out of his door and the walk of shame had already afforded me one sighting. How many people would see me before I made it back to the sanctuary of my room, where I could down half a bottle of tylenol and bury my head in my pillows?

Thankfully, I didn't encounter anybody else while I walked, head down and messy, tangled hair hanging in limp curls around my embarrassed face. Nonetheless I expected that by the following day my unfortunate choice of accommodation for the night would have spread around the campus faster than bubonic plague.

Arriving at my room, I gratefully worshipped at the shrine of the Tylenol Gods, taking more than I ought to have done in an effort to silence the samba band in my brain, before collapsing onto my bed, still in the blue dress, and falling asleep.

The following day I dressed carefully in my finest _butter wouldn't melt in my mouth_ ensemble, loose fitting jeans and a blue gingham shirt. Gingham always made people think of _The Wizard of Oz _and there was no movie heroine quite so innocent as Dorothy Gale.

Reaching the door to my building I did an about turn when I saw the heavy black cloud lingering in the sky. Typical. Marching back up the stairs in a strop worthy of Naomi Campbell, I grabbed my raincoat and ran back down, now running late for my first class of the day and still in desperate need of coffee.

I decided to forgo the coffee and ignore the beast within that craved it, in order to be on-time for class. I slid into the back, hiding behind my books and keeping my head down in anticipation of the stares I assumed were coming. I braced myself for the dagger feeling of being glared at by a room full of people, but it never came. I peered over the top of my text book, sweeping my eyes around the room expecting at least _someone_ to be staring, but all eyes were front and centre, just as normal. Was it too much to think that maybe, just maybe, Peter's friend had not reported to the student population in general that Donna Murphy spent the night with a member of the chess club. Someone with Battlestar Galactica posters on his wall. I cringed at the thought that I knew what he had on his wall.

Leaving after the class in which I must have heard a maximum of about twelve words, I dared to hope that nobody knew, and it seemed I was right. Nobody looked at me any more than usual, and certainly not with the level of disdain I would expect considering where I spent the night.

As heavy drops began to pound to earth from the sky, I instantly regretted my choice of hair down and no umbrella. I was just breaking into a run in an attempt to get to my next class without ending up looking like Shirley Temple, when I felt a hand close around my arm and pull me into the entryway of the nearest building.

My nose collided painfully with a strong chest and I pulled back, rubbing it angrily. My eyes took in a red t-shirt which read '_There are 10 types of people in this world. Those who understand binary and those who don't.' _

Groaning, I turned around and made for the exit. I only knew one person who wore cryptic t-shirts like that, and I wasn't ready to talk to him.

"Donna, wait, please," he called after me as my hand closed around the big brass handle of the physics building. I eyerolled at my own inability to just walk the hell out of there. I wanted to kid myself into thinking it was the possibility of crazy girl hair that kept me standing there, but if I was being honest I knew it wasn't that.

I didn't turn to him, I just dropped my hand from the door and sighed heavily.

"Why do you wear t-shirts that nobody understands?" Beside the point? Yes, yes it was. Avoiding the point? How did you guess?

"I... umm... can we talk?"

"Talking, yeah, great! I like talking. What do you want to talk about? I'm pretty sure the weather is a dead topic..." I gestured to the heaving rain on the other side of the glass door and the sky which was splitting with thick bolts of lightening.

"It doesn't have to be." His cool hand on my arm startled me and I jumped, yelping quietly in alarm. "Can I show you?"

"Show me what?" I asked, eyeing him warily as his face lit up with hope.

"The weather."

"I can see the weather. In fact, I can go one better, I can feel the shit in my hair, proving to me that even bothering to own a set of straighteners in this rain-drenched town is utterly pointless." I ran my fingers through my hair, shuddering at the areas of frizz I could already feel springing up where the rain had caught it before I got pulled to safety.

"You don't like the rain?" Well d'oh!

"Oh, I love it," I enthused fakely. "It's the greatest." I heard him sigh beside me and his grip on my arm loosened.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone, I guess." He turned from me, dropping his hands into the pockets of his faded blue jeans and started to saunter away, obviously feigning nonchalance.

"Peter?" I almost whispered, bringing him to a stop where he was. He didn't turn to face me. Touché. "Have you... I mean, did you..."

"No, Donna. I haven't told anybody. Your precious secret is safe." He spat his words at me, still facing away, but there was hurt in his voice. Surely he hadn't thought that something would happen between us?

He walked away from me quickly, before I could answer, and started heading upstairs. I watched his retreating back, placing my hand back on the cool door handle and wrestled with myself internally for a solid five minutes to just walk away.

Then finally, I took the plunge and pushed into the door, re-entering the monsoon outside, holding my book bag over my head in a vain attempt to shield my poor hair from it's unwanted shower.

I turned as I reached the building opposite, scanning the physics building, not entirely sure why, but jumping, startled when I saw his form, standing on the roof of the building, staring out to the horizon. His eyes flickered to mine after a moment of staring at him, and his expression became suddenly and overwhelmingly sad.

'_Walk away!" _My brain screamed at me while my feet ignored my brain more completely than I ignored those _Enjoy Alcohol Responsibly _adverts on the TV, and walked back towards the building he was perched on.

I eventually managed to navigate my way to the roof of the building, only discovering after about ten minutes of searching that there were signs pointing to the stairwell that led to the roof. I couldn't understand why they would possibly have it signposted until I saw all the telescopes and satellite dishes on the roof. I guess that made sense, it was the physics building.

"Peter?" I approached him cautiously, not wanting to scare him and make him fall over the edge.

"I'm not planning on jumping, Donna. You can walk away. Guilt free." His voice was cold and hard and he didn't turn to face me. I felt a stirring of pain in my chest which I didn't understand, I barely knew this guy. Sure, we went to the same high school before ending up at the same college, but before the previous morning he had just been the guy my ex had stuffed into lockers.

"What are you doing up here in the rain, Peter?" I took a few steps forward, my head starting to spin like a merry-go-round when I saw how high up we were.

"Woah steady, Donna." His hands gripped me around the waist as I swayed on the spot. "You can't be getting dizzy this close to the edge, you could fall."

"Yeah, thanks, that's very helpful," I snarked back, burying my head into his chest as he held me up with his surprisingly strong arms.

"You okay?" he asked, rubbing my back soothingly with his hand.

"Sure," I muttered, my voice muffled by the soft cotton of his incomprehensible t-shirt. "I just don't routinely stand on the roofs of tall buildings in the middle of America's answer to the monsoon."

"Maybe you should try it sometime?" he smirked at me as he tentatively released me from his arms. "The storm looks amazing from up here."

"Oh yeah?" I looked out, intending to see what he was talking about, but stumbled back as my stomach rolled with vertigo.

"Easy, Donna." He gripped me once again around the waist and pulled me to him. "Maybe you should sit down before you do yourself an injury."

"I'm not that tall. Sitting down is only gonna take off about five feet, it's the other million that's causing the problems." His responding chuckle was entirely at odds with the comforting arms he had clasped tightly around me as I fell blurrily against his chest once more.

"You really do have an answer for everything, don't you?" he laughed, holding on to my upper arms and guiding me to sit against a chimmney or something.

"I have a strong suspicion that were you to ask me one of those scarily difficult, scratch your brains out, physics questions, I would struggle," I retorted, pretty much proving his point in the process.

"I'll have to test that theory out sometime," he laughed, sitting down next to me and allowing me to slump against him wearily.

My eyes were firmly shut in an attempt to stop the crazy spinning, and my head was resting on his shoulder. Breathing deeply to try to get the oxygen circulating around my brain again, I caught a hint of apple. He smelt like apples.

I love apples.

"Mmm?" Shit. Did I say that out loud?

I shook my head, then cracked one eye open warily to the sight of him looking down at me, with a look of affectionate amusement on his face.

"Better?" he asked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. His eyes were _really _blue. I had never noticed that before. They were that piercing shade of blue, the colour I always imagined when I thought of the Pacific Ocean.  
_  
_"Yeah much, thanks."

"Better enough to maybe open the other eye? Maybe catch some of the storm? It's pretty amazing." I forced the other eye open, but remained gazing at him, finding myself completely lost in his deep blue pools.

Laughing, he took my chin between his finger and thumb and turned my face away from him.

"The storm is that way, Donna."

"Right, the storm... yeah." My eyes flickered briefly back to him before staring out at the rain soaked horizon.

Lightning tore across the sky, lighting it up in hues of purple and silver as the roaring thunder burned in my ears. Without thinking I pressed myself further into his side and felt his arm snake around my shoulders.

"Is it safe up here?" I whispered, the might of the storm suddenly making me feel terribly small.

"As safe as it is down there," he replied, running his hand up and down my arm. I felt a light tingling sensation running in a trail wherever his fingers moved, drawing my eyes away from the amazing show that nature was providing and back to his eyes.

"It's so beautiful," I said quietly, my eyes locked with his and staring unashamedly.

"Yeah... beautiful," he replied, his eyes searing with intensity as he brought his hand up and brushed my cheek lightly with his thumb. A spark shot through me at his touch and I covered his hand with mine, holding it to my cheek, enjoying the strange sensation it was sending through me. Something in his expression and the way he formed his words made me believe that he wasn't talking about the storm any more.

His face leaned in slowly towards mine, his eyes intoxicating as they held my gaze. Then, so slowly that the movement was barely discernible, his lips found mine, brushing against them softly, like a ghost's touch. An incendiary of fireworks broke out throughout my body at that, his lightest of touches, and I pushed forwards, making the kiss more definite, more real. His lips felt so soft, so smooth against mine and his apple scent was clouding my mind and fogging up my senses. My caged mind was trying to scream at me that I was insane; that I was losing the plot entirely. But no matter how loud it hollered, it couldn't drown out the feeling that this was right somehow.

As his tongue ghosted along my lips, I parted them slightly, allowing our tongues to entwine and dance together. The contact was enthralling and despite myself I found that I didn't want it to end.

But eventually our mutual need for oxygen forced us apart, and his eyes immediately darted downwards, as though he was regretting kissing me. I pulled back, hurt coursing though me at his obvious regret. As I did his eyes flickered up to mine, filled with uncertainty and confusion.

"That was amazing," I whispered, smiling shyly at him and watching the corners of his mouth twitch sightly and then turn upwards, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Nothing happened," he started, averting his eyes from me once again. "After the party. I was walking you home, but you were so unsteady on your feet and you couldn't remember where your room was. I didn't want to leave you, and you had no cell phone on you, so I carried you to my room and we fell straight to sleep. You were drunk, but you weren't _that _drunk." His last words held a slight edge of bitterness as he started to claw at the grit on the roof we were sat on.

I placed a finger under his chin, tilting his face up so that he was looking at me. His eyes were slightly glassy, as though he was fighting back tears, and his hands were shaking. Then suddenly his arm was gone, and he was jumping up and backing away from me.

"I'm sorry, Donna. I should go."

I couldn't understand the feeling I had as he began to walk away from me. It was as though the image of his eyes, glazed over with unshed tears had burned itself onto my retinas and I couldn't shake the feeling that letting him walk away would be a big mistake.

"Peter, wait!" I shouted after him, just as he reached the door to the stairs that would carry him away from me. "Don't go," I pleaded, my eyes locking with his once more and sinking into the sapphire depths.

"I can't stay," he returned, hesitating slightly by the door, his fingers still caressing the handle.

"Why not?"

"Self preservation, Donna. This," he spat, his finger gesturing between us, "hurts too much. I can't do it, I'm sorry."

The heavy rain sluiced down relentlessly, plastering his dark hair to his forehead and running down his cheeks in trails which could easily have been hiding tears. Shivering with the cold I slowly moved towards him, feeling the cold raindrops saturating my hair and running down my back in streams.

"Please," I whispered, placing a hand on his arm. Not restraining; pleading. "I want you to stay; I think I _need _you to stay."

He huffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Sure," he said, bitterly. "Donna Murphy wants to hang out on a roof with Peter Davis, and oh look, a flying pig."

I couldn't prove it with words. If I had opened my lips to speak right then a sarcastic retort would have slipped out and ruined everything. So instead, I did the only thing I could think of to do. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him to me tightly as I pressed my lips against his with wild abandon. He was hesitant at first, trying to pull back, but I persisted and eventually he gave in, his lips moulding against mine as his arms snaked around my waist.

The rain continued to fall down around us, the storm clapping and lighting up the sky as the electricity sizzled between us. I didn't know exactly what this was that we were doing, but I did know that it felt more right than anything had ever felt before.

As we finally parted, our foreheads rested together and our arms still holding the other tight, I giggled slightly, unable to stop myself.

"Peter?"

"Yeah...?"

"Will you explain your t-shirt to me?"


	9. Chapter 9

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, Stephenie Meyer does. _**

**_A/N: As usual the picture can be found over on the blog at http:/picprompt (dot) blogspot (dot) com Thank you as always to Nostalgicmiss for running the blog and keeping us all in order. _**

**_I'm taking a few weeks off from the blog. Sadly real life is getting in the way and I'm finding it difficult to cope. Once I get back of my holidays in August I shall return :)_**

**_And over to Bella..._**

* * *

**Light in the Darkness**

The heavy, oak door slammed home, leaving me alone in the stark, white room which was completely devoid of anything even remotely resembling character. The old quilt on the bed probably once danced with a lively, vibrant pattern, but was now faded beyond recognition and contained stains I didn't even want to question.

Forsaking the bed in favor of an old looking armchair I slumped into it, hugging my backpack tightly to my chest, terrified that they would search through it and find my precious cargo. I stiffened as I heard the familiar clicking of heels on the linoleum in the corridor outside my door, and then the handle moved and the door was pushed open. Apparently people didn't knock around here.

"Here's your towels. Lights out is in ten minutes so I suggest you unpack in the morning, Isabella."

"It's Bella," I whispered softly to nobody, as the door had already clicked shut loudly behind the form of a woman who very clearly saw me as an inconvenience. She had made that much perfectly clear from the moment she had pulled open the big, thick front door to the "establishment", as the thin lipped social worker had described it.

The building was huge. It looked like one of those old institutions you always saw in horror movies, the places that were always haunted. Somebody had made a feeble attempt at making it look homely by hanging a basket of flowers by the door. But since the flowers had clearly been neglected right from the offset, they now hung limp and brown, making the place look even more menacing and unwelcoming than before.

The social worker had said very little to me on the ride over. She had merely spouted off a load of meaningless information about where I would be staying, and hadn't answered when I asked her when I could return home again. Apparently '_teenage girls do not run away from home unless there's something at home worth running from.' _Those were the words they had slapped both me and my brother around the face with before they dragged me away from his heartbroken face, citing that I could come home once they could be certain I wasn't in any danger from being allowed back. Like I hadn't caused him enough pain and worry already, now they were accusing him of hurting me.

A soft mewling from my bag pulled me from my thoughts and reminded me of my precious and secret cargo. Pulling the zip aside I reached into my almost empty bag, and pulled out the tiny bundle of fur, which curled into my hand.

Pulling him to my face I nestled my nose into his soft fur as he purred in my hand. If anybody found out that when I had been sent to pack 'a few essentials' to take with me, I had instead spent almost the entire time I was shut in my bedroom upstairs trying to coax my kitten out from under the bed and stowing him in my bag, I would probably get into all kinds of trouble. But so far he had managed to keep quiet, probably curling up on the soft clothes I had stuffed in there with him, and falling asleep.

"I want to go home, Monty," I whispered into his fur, feeling the sting of tears at my eyelids and losing my battle to hold them there as they began to stream down my cheeks in thick, heaving sobs, which I couldn't contain. His wise, green eyes stared back at me, looking for all the world as though he understood what I was saying and could make it all better somehow.

There was a loud clicking sound in the hallway which coincided with the room cutting out into complete and overwhelming darkness.

I hated the dark.

Ever since that night - the night when everything changed - I had found darkness frightening and couldn't stop the panic that coursed through me when I couldn't see what was around me.

Stumbling out of the comfort of the chair, still clutching Monty tightly to my chest, I made my way across the room to where I had seen a light switch on the wall earlier on. Stubbing my toes painfully against the grubby old night-stand, I cried out, and went to lean down, banging my head against the wall in the darkness.

The tears were now pouring relentlessly down my face as I curled into myself on the floor. Everything was wrong. Everything hurt. My body ached from both the evidence of my clumsiness, and from the tension it had been held in ever since Child Services had come knocking at the door. And my chest tugged painfully for the hurt in my brother's eyes when they accused him of being the reason I ran away. I had howled out to them that they were wrong, clung onto his hands desperately as they pried me away from him. I was screaming to them that he would never hurt me, that he was the only person I had in the world and they were taking me from him. I screamed and shouted, but it was like one of those dreams where you shout so loudly that your lungs burst, but nobody can hear you.

Panic bubbled up in my throat as I realised what I had done. It mingled with my heaving sobs leaving me lying on the floor gasping for air as the darkness enveloped me in it's cruel embrace, making me feel more alone and more frightened than ever.

Monty started to wriggle and protest in my arms, which I realised were holding him painfully tight.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, loosening my grip, but not letting him go entirely. My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the still, dead quiet and I needed his warmth and his gentle purring to remind me that I was still me, that I was still here.

I started to cough and splutter, feeling the knife-like pain in my chest, as though the smoke was choking me again. The feeling was so strong that I could almost hear the flames licking at the door, trying to force their way inside. Screaming out I buried my face into my arms, curling up and trying to make myself as small as possible, so that the flames would take longer to reach me.

I was vaguely aware of a commotion happening around me, but I was lost, lost inside my head and the memories which threatened to consume me whole.

"NO!" I screamed out when I felt something touch me on the shoulder. The light pressure retracted immediately, and I heard words being thrown around, though they were disjointed and not part of any coherent sentences in my mind.

"_Obvious side effects of abuse..._" and "_Needs the doctor..._" were just two of the short gasps of phrases I heard before light started to permeate my tightly squeezed eyelids.

Up until now the voices I had heard were all female, but a new voice joined now. This voice was definitely male, and yet it was softer, calmer and it soothed me before he even began to speak to me.

"Isabella, I'm a doctor, can you open your eyes for me?" There was no demand in his voice; this wasn't an order, it was a request. His voice was gentle and held no hint of the annoyance that every single other person I had been handled by since leaving Emmett's side had spoken to me with. He didn't speak to me as though I was an inconvenience to him, as though I was an unnecessary drain on his time. In the few words he had spoken he had made me feel as though I was worth his time and his patience.

Pulling my face out catiously from where it was buried in my arms, I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against the harsh strip light which blazed on the ceiling.

"There she is." I looked up into sparkling blue eyes which smiled back at me with compassion and care.

I blinked several times before I could properly focus on his face, my vision was blurred from all the tears I'd cried. But when they finally focused I could see the man kneeling on the floor beside me smiling at me softly and offering me a tissue which I took, gratefully.

He watched me blow my nose in a non too lady-like fashion, then offered me a hand to pull me up to standing. I hung my head, knowing that my freak out had caused a drama during the night, and that this was probably the last thing they needed.

"How do you feel, Isabella?" he soft voice crooned, as I felt a finger under my chin, nudging my face up gently.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry. I... I just don't..." I trailed off, not really wanting to explain why a fifteen year old girl was afraid of the dark. He looked at me speculatively for a long, intense moment, before he turned to the two women standing in the doorway looking angry.

"Ladies, thank you for calling me. Do you think I could possibly have a moment alone with Isabella?" They both acquiesced quickly, looking like there were a million and one places they would rather be.

The golden haired doctor walked across the room and shut the door before turning to face me once more.

"Do you want to take a seat?" I eyed the chair I had been sat in, my heart jumping in my chest when I saw that Monty was curled up there.

"N-no," I stammered, terrified that he would see the kitten and then the very last thing that was holding me together would be ripped away.

"Not even if we move the cat first?" I stared fearfully at him, knowing that now he would be taken away, and that would be everything. Everything that mattered would be gone, and I only had myself to blame. I had torn Emmett apart by running away. I could still see his face the day I came home. He looked so much older than when I left, the lines of worry which had once just disappeared when he stopped frowning, were now permanently etched onto his face. Lines I caused, sitting there on his face, a constant reminder of how badly I hurt him.

I continued to watch, frozen to the spot as the Doctor moved to the chair and scooped the sleeping kitten up in one of his large hands and started to stroke him tenderly, a large smile on his face.

"Well you're a handsome fellow aren't you?" he chuckled as he pulled Monty into his chest and held him there before turning his attention back to me. "How does that chair look to you now?"

I didn't answer; I didn't even give any indication that I heard him. My eyes were glued to where Monty was nestled into his chest, presumably ready for him to take with him when he left me here in the dark again.

Seeing my hesitance, he looked down at Monty, who was snuggled into the crook of his arm, completely unconcerned about the authority of the person holding him to take him away from me.

Gently the doctor wrapped his fingers around the kitten's tiny body and lifted him up, then stretched his arm out in offering. Gingerly I took the floppy, sleeping cat from him and held him to my chest, still eyeing the doctor with distrust.

"Your secret is safe with me, Isabella," he started, smiling and perching on the edge of the window sill next to the chair. "As long as you manage to take good care of him, I see no reason to take away what is probably one of the few things you have to cling onto right now."

His bright, blue eyes sparkled with compassion and I had to look away. I didn't want to see that right now. I wanted to be left alone, to hate everyone and everything associated with this place, and he was ruining that with his kindness.

"Listen, Isabella, I don't know what happened to you that you were brought here in such a hurry, but I assure you I only want to help. Please, there's no need for you to be afraid, I won't hurt you."

"Bella," I whispered, sure that he wouldn't hear, or that if he did, he would ignore me, just like everybody else so far that day.

"I'm sorry?"

"Bella. My name is Bella. I mean... My name is Isabella, but..."

"But you prefer to be called Bella?" I nodded. "Well, my apologies, Bella. Nobody told me that." His tone held a hint of bitterness and resignation to it and I thought I saw him rolling his eyes before I looked back down at the floor once more.

"So, _iBella/i, _do you think you can sit down so that I can take a look at you? All the kids they bring in here have to have a medical. Yours is scheduled for the morning but I'd like to check you over after your little... episode, so I may as well kill two birds with one stone."

I looked between him and the chair several times before giving in and edging my way into the chair, never moving my eyes off him or releasing my death grip on Monty. He stepped forward, cautiously at first then more confidently when I didn't back away, and proceeded to carry out a whole bunch of medical checks I had little or no understanding of. He tried to explain them as he went along, his soft voice and gentle touch soothing me as I fought off my desire to just run.

Once he was done he put all his weird instruments with complicated sounding names back in his big, black doctor's bag and perched back on the window sill, his legs crossed and his eyes fixed intently on me.

"Everything seems to be fine, Bella," he started, before running his fingers through his hair in a gesture that reminded me sharply of my father. I winced as I felt the pain squeeze at my chest as images of my father crashed through my mind in waves. Before I could stop them I could feel fat tears running their way down my cheeks as each image of my father, and then my mother hit me like a freight train.

A light pressure on my wringing hands pulled me back into the room, where the doctor was now crouched before me once more, his face a mask of concern as his hand rested lightly on top of mine.

"Is everything alright, Bella?" he asked, his voice imploring me to trust him.

"I want to go home," I answered simply. I needed my big brother. I needed him to hold me in his big, thick arms and sing stupid songs to me in his ridiculous baritone voice until I felt better.

He nodded sadly, the understanding on his face nearly brought me to my knees with despair. He didn't tell me that everything was going to be okay, because he didn't know that it would. He didn't tell me that I could go home soon, because he didn't know that I could. He didn't bombard me with false promises of a happily ever after because he had no idea where I was coming from or why I was here. All he knew was that he probably heard those very words from most of the children he saw in this place. All he did was touch my hand tenderly and try to make me feel better in the here and now with smiles and friendly words.

After a few minutes of silence in which I managed to get my tears under control, he shifted back and stood, making his way back to the window sill where he seemed to like sitting.

"Would you like to talk about what happened before?" he asked quietly, his eyes intense as they bore into mine.

I held his gaze for a while, trying to see some hint of something in his eyes which I could distrust. But all I could see there was the compassionate and caring eyes of a good doctor who genuinely cared about his patients.

"It went dark," I offered, as though that explained everything.

"You don't like the dark?"

"I don't like not being able to see, it's too much like..." I stuttered off. I said too much. What was with this man? How did he somehow manage to break down walls that had been standing solid for nearly five years now.

"Too much like what, Bella?" I slammed my lips shut, determined not to say any more. He was surely here just to get information out of me and then pass it on to the people who wanted to take me away from Emmett, and I wasn't willing to give him any excuses to do that. What happened was an accident and Emmett had paid for it a million times over. He didn't need this as well. This wasn't fair.

"Bella, I know this is hard, but I want you to know that you can talk to me. Nothing you tell me will go back to them. I'm a doctor, therefore unless I believe that you or others are at serious risk from what you tell me, I have no obligations to anybody to pass the information on."

I wanted to distrust him. I wanted to run away screaming from this man who saw too much. But instead I found that I was crying again, and this time I let the tears fall freely.

"How did you end up here, Bella?" he asked carefully, seeming unsure about whether he was crossing a line or not.

"They think that my brother hits me," I stated simply, letting my utter disbelief that anybody would think that of Emmett seep into my tone.

"And does he?" he asked with interest, his eyes literally shining with concern now.

"Of course not. He's my brother, he would never hurt me. NEVER!" I didn't even realise that I had shot up out of my seat and was now standing almost nose to nose with this man, my anger at his question overtaking my desperation to trust him.

"I'm sorry, I had to ask," he came back with. "Well if he doesn't hurt you, and everything is alright at home then how did you end up in here?" His voice was genuinely interested, his head cocked to one side and his eyebrow quirked in question.

I sighed in resignation, knowing that this was the part where he would see that all this was my fault. All that was happening now was because I was stupid.

"I ran away," I whispered, almost hoping that he wouldn't hear me. No such luck.

"What were you running from?" There was no accusation or disgust in his words, only concern.

"Just... memories. The house, everything. There were so many memories everywhere and they were overwhelming. One day I just couldn't cope any more. I was lying on my bed, trying to forget and I just... couldn't." I looked up into his eyes, waiting for him to frown at me or walk away in anger, something to show that he thought that what I did was cowardly, and cruel to my brother. But he said nothing; he merely nodded ever so slightly for me to continue.

"I tried shutting my eyes, I tried drowning out the sounds with loud music, I even tried screaming at them to stop, but nothing helped. I didn't mean to hurt anybody, really I didn't. But I just couldn't take it. I just ran out of the door and kept running. The weird thing was though, that the further I ran, the louder they got. And Emmett's voice joined them. I couldn't bear it; it was like I had my whole family crying out to me inside my head and nothing I did made it go away."

"Bella, sweetheart, where are your parents?"

"They died," was all the answer I offered. He nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking at me sadly.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," I stated, watching him carefully.

"What happened?"

"There was a fire." I didn't offer any details and he didn't ask for any. I didn't tell him how the fire started. I didn't tell him that Emmett had been smoking in his bedroom with his best friend and apparently left a cigarette smouldering, which eventually burnt through and set fire to his bedroom. I didn't tell him how my father died going back into the house after I begged him to rescue my dog. I didn't tell him that none of us even knew that my mom was in there. That she had crept in late and fallen asleep on the couch after a night out with her friends and we didn't even know she had died until the fire chief told us. I didn't tell him how my knees had given out under me when they told me that both my parents were gone in a single night.

"That's..." He hesitatated. "I'm so sorry, Bella. To lose both your parents in one night... I can't even imagine."

"Emmett takes care of me now," I said sadly, realisation hitting me that I had no real idea of if or when they would allow me to see him again, let alone return home.

"Did they not ask you?" he asked, leaning forward where he sat, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together as he gazed at me intently. "Did they not ask you whether your brother was hurting you, before they took you away?"

"They asked. Of course they asked. But just because they took the time to ask, doesn't mean that they bothered to listen to the response. In their eyes he was convicted and sentenced within moments of them stepping through the door."

"Well, when I report back from your medical, I can offer the information that there was no evidence of abuse anywhere on your body, and that your body language strongly suggested to me that you are not being hurt at home." I attempted a smile at his kindness. He was the first person to show me anything even resembling tolerance today, let alone actual kindness. It made me ache for my brother and his goofy grin and rubbish jokes.

"Th-thank you, doctor," I stammered out as the easy tears started to flow again. If I hadn't been so utterly hopeless at this point, I would have been ashamed of the amount I had cried in front of this man. But I just couldn't find it in myself to care when everything had fallen down around me in such spectacular fashion.

"You're more than welcome, sweetheart," he replied, patting my softly on the head and smiling. I don't know what came over me, but his kindness and compassion had overwhelmed me after so much nothing from so many others that his simple pat of my head sparked something inside of me and I threw my arms around him, clinging to the back of his shirt desperately. At first he stiffened at the contact, and I knew that what I was doing was inappropriate. But I so desperately needed human contact that wasn't just strong arms dragging me away from my brother in hysterical tears, or a hand clasped too tightly around my arm and leading me to a bare room where I was expected to sleep.

He relaxed after a moment when I started to sob into his chest, and I felt his arms close around me. He whispered reassuring words to me and stroked my hair down my back the way I remembered my father doing when I was upset. I clung onto him desperately for a few more minutes, not wanting him to go and take his kindness, and the light with him. But I knew that he had to leave, and I knew that what I was doing wasn't appropriate.

Finally I managed to force myself to pull away, refusing to look into his eyes before he walked away and left me here alone in the dark. I turned to the cold, sterile bed, my eyes smarting with yet more tears at the thought of sleeping in there in the pitch black darkness with only my terrified thoughts for company.

I felt a hand land softly on my shoulder and jumped around to face where he was once again staring at me with concern.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have done that, I just... I needed..."

"It's ok, Bella. I understand. Sometimes you just need somebody. Can you give me two minutes? I'll be right back, I promise." I nodded so he left me, shooting me a kind smile before he walked away, his smart shoes slapping against the cold, sterile floor.

While he was gone I perched myself on the edge of the bed, putting Monty down beside me, who immediately curled into a ball by my side and fell asleep. I tried to count the drops of rain as they pattered against my window as I waited for him to return and wondered why he would.

He did, of course, and in his hands he held my salvation. A small desk lamp, which he proceeded to plug in beside the bed and place on the night stand before turning to me and beaming happily.

"I almost had to draw blood to get it, but it's yours for the night. Tomorrow let's see what we can do about getting you home, eh?"

I stared at him open mouthed when he spoke those words. I had thought I was all alone in this. Sure, this man, this doctor had been kind to me, but I had assumed that once his work here was done that would be the last time I saw him. Yet, here he was talking about coming back tomorrow. I had to admit that there was a large part of me that wanted to see him again, wanted to feel his fatherly compassion one more time.

"Home?" I asked him, unable to keep the hope out of my voice.

"No promises, but I'll see what I can do to help." I couldn't help it. I gazed up at him as though he was the Messiah, the answer to all my troubles. He chuckled and mussed my hair playfully.

"Sleep well, Bella. I'll see you tomorrow."

If I was being honest with myself, I was a little sceptical about him returning the following day. Although he had given no reason to do anything but trust him, I couldn't see why he could possibly want to return to a lost cause like me.

But return he did, and this time he brought his wife with him. She was beautiful, with long, wavy, honey coloured hair and a smile that could light up a continent and she made me feel like a daughter again when she pulled me into her arms in a tender hug. The now so familiar tears stung at my eyes once again as the scent of my mother's favourite perfume overwhelmed my senses.

"Oh, my precious thing, don't worry, we'll sort all this mess out," she crooned as she held me to her tightly. I clung onto her red cotton shirt with all I had, desperately wanting her to stay with me, to not leave me alone here again.

Her arms wound tightly around me and held me to her chest where I could hear her gentle heart beating. I snuggled into her embrace, allowing myself to fall into the feeling of having a parent to take care of me, even though I knew it was just an illusion and would probably be whipped away from me at any moment.

"May I meet your kitten, Bella?" she asked in a low whisper, almost conspiratorial as she grinned at me with a hush-hush face.

"Um, sure," I responded, reaching up to where Monty was curled up and snoozing beside my pillow, where he spent the night. His soft purring had comforted me as I lay awake all night, fretting over everything that was happening, and wondering what Emmett was thinking at each moment. I wanted so desperately for him to know how sorry I was for all I caused, and how much I missed him.

I cautiously handed him over into her waiting hands, where she cradled him and cooed sweet words to him as he stared blearily at her. His pink nose stood out adorably against his bright white and ginger fur as he gawped at her briefly, before deciding she wasn't a threat and curling up to sleep again.

"He's wonderful," she crooned as she placed him back in my hands and covered him with her own. "You take good care of him, sweetheart." Her words said one thing, but her tone and her expression said quite another as she made it clear that what she meant was that I should keep him well hidden.

I buried my nose into his fur, breathing in the scent of him - the scent of home, and feeling another wave of sadness overtake me at the thought of home and how long it might be before I saw it again. And that was only _if _these people ever let me go back.

I quickly put Monty back down on my pillow, not wanting to succumb to the tears which were once again fighting for release at my eyelids. A soft, warm hand cupped my cheek before I was pulled into another comforting embrace which made my tear resistance almost none existent.

"I want to go home," I whispered, as the doctor's wife held me to her, rocking me and shushing me like a small child.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," she spoke while softly running her fingers through my hair. "And we're going to do everything we can to make sure that you get there, ok?" She pulled back from me, lifting my chin with her finger and waiting for a response.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded, unsure what I ought to call her.

"Oh please, dear, don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel so old. I'm Esme, just Esme."

"Esme," I spoke softly, trying the name on my lips. "That's pretty." She simply beamed at me, before releasing my chin and turning to her husband.

"Carlisle, what happens now?" He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and frowning in confusion when I whimpered at the gesture.

"They have to have a meeting to discuss her case. They had it scheduled for next week, but I managed to convince them to bring it forward on medical grounds. After Bella's meltdown, or whatever you want to call it, last night, it was easy to convince them. It seems they think you're more trouble than you're worth, Bella." He winked at me and smiled before turning back to his wife. "I've asked to attend, I can offer them my medical findings from last night, which will hopefully go some way to convincing them that her brother isn't abusing her. I thought maybe you two would enjoy each other's company while I'm in the meeting."

His eyes searched mine for any sign that I was uncomfortable with the idea, but he would find none. His wife was sweet and kind and made me feel safer and more comforted than anybody had, aside from my brother, since my parents died.

"I'd like that," I whispered, enjoying the feeling as her arms enveloped me once again.

"What would you like to do, sweetheart?"

I looked hopelessly around the bare room, my face falling at the lack of potential activities available to us. All I had was a few spare articles of clothing I had shoved into my bag followed by Monty when they sent me to pack. Guilt shot through me when I realised I hadn't even packed any toys or food bowls for him. I had stashed some scraps of my own untouched breakfast in a pocket and fed them to him out of my hand this morning, but I would need to find more food for him and soon or the doctor would have to take him away from me.

"I don't... There is nothing. I'm sorry," I said, casting my eyes down to the old faded quilt where my finger traced the threads of cotton absent-mindedly.

Nobody spoke for a long moment and I looked up to see what looked like a silent conversation going on between Esme and the doctor. It reminded me of how my parents used to talk to each other with their eyes, in fact my mum always used to say that all their most important decisions were made silently. My dad always said that she could silence him with one look, and it was true, she could bend anybody to her will just by shooting them a look. Emmett always said it was a skill I inherited from her, that I could just pout or throw my puppy dog eyes at him and he was putty in my hands.

I smiled lightly at the thought of my goofy brother and how much he spoiled me. The very idea of him ever lifting a finger to me, in anger or anything else was just laughable and surely it was only a matter of time until these people saw that too.

"Would you like to go out, for a walk or to the pet shop maybe?" I couldn't help it; my eyes lit up at the idea of being able to get some supplies in for Monty. Until I realised that I left home with no money whatsoever and even if we went to the best stocked pet shop in Washington, I still couldn't get what I needed for him. My face dropped instantly at my realisation and I looked down at the floor, my heart hurting at the thought of Monty having to go without because I was too selfish to leave him at home with Emmett.

"No, thank you," I responded eventually, chewing on my lip as I felt both their eyes scrutinising me intensely.

"You'd rather stay here?" The doctor considered me carefully as I chewed on my lip and stared at the floor, willing the tears to stay put this time, and just for once they obeyed me.

"Yes, sir," I whispered, almost inaudibly, my fingers twisting and wringing together under his watchful eyes. I could feel his eyes almost boring into me as I steadfastly kept them trained on the ground, watching his feet as they moved towards me. And then his face was in my vision; he was crouched down in front of me with a curious look on his face.

"What is it, Bella?" he asked, his expression so full of concern that I had to avert my eyes, before I was dragged into their deep blue depths. This couple were so very much like the parents I had lost, that it almost hurt to see him look at me that way.

I didn't say anything; I simply closed my eyes and shook my head, squeezing them tightly shut and hoping that the tears would stay away just a little bit longer.

"Doctor Cullen," a harsh voice barked from the doorway, causing my eyes to spring open in surprise. "The meeting about Isabella is due to start. They're in the board room." The woman who had spoken my name with such distaste that I couldn't help wondering what I had managed to do to upset her, turned on her heel and strutted away, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

I heard the doctor sigh heavily and saw him shoot his wife an apologetic look before he stood and walked from the room, tipping me a wink and a smile as he did.

His exit left an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between us as I sat beside Esme on the bed, my fingers dancing and tangling together awkwardly under her scrutiny. My eyes remained focused intently on my weaving fingers in an attempt to avoid the questions that were bound to be sitting in her gaze.

She stayed silent and practically motionless beside me, but her gaze never wavered. It was as though she was starving me out; she knew I would cave eventually.

Finally, once the tension became unbearable, I glanced up and saw that she was smiling down at me with a heartbreakingly tender expression on her face.

"I'm sorry," I spoke so softly that I wasn't sure she would hear. "You don't have to stay here with me."

"I'm not here because I have to be, Bella. I'm here because my husband said there was a sweet young lady in a bad situation who he thought I would get along with. I'm not going to force my company on you, sweetheart, and if you want me to go, of course I'll leave. But don't for a moment think that I'm here because I feel that I have to be."

Her voice was full of so much sincerity that I couldn't help but believe what she was saying, and in a rare moment of selfishness I responded with an almost inaudible whisper.

"Don't leave me. Please."

She didn't leave me. She stayed by my side the whole day, even managing to coax me out and into the local pet store where she bought some food, a couple of bowls and a toy for Monty after I reluctantly agreed to let her.

We walked in the park and talked about everything. She talked about her family, her teenage children and their home in the forest. I talked a little about my brother and explained a little of the situation to her, keeping it brief and editing slightly so as not to upset her any more than I already had.

When we were back at the "establishment" we played with Monty in the bedroom, and she braided my hair. For one day, one blissful set of hours I felt like I had a mother again. When I felt a small tear slip out unbidden at the thought of my mother she pulled me into her side and held me close, whispering words of comfort.

When the doctor returned he was smiling as he knelt on the floor at my feet and cuffed my face with his hand teasingly.

"There's somebody here who needs to see you, Bella. Is that ok?" There was something dancing in his eyes as he spoke, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was he was so happy about. I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know how the meeting had gone, but there was someone here to see me, and who knew? Maybe this person could help me to get home again.

"Yes, sir," I replied, pushing up off the bed to standing at the same time as he stood up beside me.

"Please, Bella. Call me Carlisle." I nodded and smiled minutely, then jumped in surprise when he took my hand in his and led me to the door, still beaming all over his face.

I saw him the moment I stepped into the corridor and felt my hand slip from Carlisle's grasp as my body unconsciously flung itself into the waiting arms of my big brother.

"Emmett," I sobbed as I felt his thick, strong arms encase me in a circle of safety and love that in just one night I had begun to miss so badly that it physically hurt.

"Hey, Baby-Bell," he responded, holding me so tightly to him that I thought I would burst, and planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

"I'm so sorry." I was weeping almost hysterically now, my hands clutching tightly at his shirt in case anybody tried to make me leave him again. This time I was determined that even the most powerful of pliers couldn't force my fingers apart and force me to leave the safety of him again.

"Sssh, it's okay, little one. Everything's going to be ok. Doctor Cullen has straightened everything out for us." I felt his finger curl under my chin and pull my face up to look at his beaming smile, which very nearly covered up the otherwise obvious signs of a sleepless night that littered his face. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Home," I repeated with awe. "You mean it?"

"Of course," he laughed, before swinging me up into his arms and spinning around, making me squeal and giggle with happiness. Eventually he planted me back on my feet and held me up when I stumbled dizzily.

"Bella, dear," the soft voice of my angel doctor spoke behind me and I spun in Emmett's arms to face him. He was holding Monty, stroking him lovingly behind his ears and drawing loud purrs from the content kitten. "Don't forget this little fellow." He placed him gently into my arms where I kissed his soft fur and allowed him to snuggle into my sleeve before dropping off again.

Feeling a sudden rush of gratitude I rushed forward, pulling Doctor Carlisle into a tentative hug, careful not to squash the sleeping kitten in between us.

"Thank you," I gasped out, as I felt him return the embrace. He chuckled lightly before responding.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I'm glad I was able to help." We stepped back from one another and I smiled brightly at him. I would never be able to express to him in words how much it meant to me that he had listened to me when nobody else did. That he had been kind to me when I was frightened, and stood up for me when I was unable to stand up for myself.

I felt Esme's arm rest over my shoulder as Carlisle turned to Emmett and offered him help any time he felt like he needed it.

"Any time, day or night, if you need us, please don't hesitate to call. I'd like to think that this isn't goodbye."

They exchanged numbers, and promised to keep in touch, the way people often do when they're parting ways and have no genuine intentions of actually using the information they're being given.

It turned out though, that the Cullens had every intention of using our telephone number. They called only five days after I returned home with Emmett, inviting us to a family BBQ. We gladly accepted, and never looked back. They easily became like a second family to us, Carlisle and Esme like surrogate parents. Although Emmett didn't strictly need parents, being already twenty-four, I was only fifteen and found Esme's motherly presence in my life invaluable.

Although I would always be sorry for what I did to spark the events of that night, I could never bring myself to truly regret it. Is was upsetting and traumatic at the time, but it brought this amazing family into our lives and for that, I could never be sorry.


End file.
